


Marriage, Italian-American Style

by PumpkinDoodles



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Awkward doctor visits and office politics, Brock isn't good dad material, Darcy calls her baby the Chicken Nugget, F/M, Fertility stats for women in their 30s are scaring Jane, Loosely inspired by the movie Marriage Italian Style, Very loosely because Darcy doesn't have the patience of Sophia Loren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2019-10-18 12:19:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 64,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17580725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: Darcy paced the living room. "Please tell me it's negative, Jane," she said, when the bathroom door opened."No," Jane said. "But we can take another one. Drink more water." She handed her an unopened box."What number is this?" Darcy asked."Fourth," Jane said. "Your fourth positive pregnancy test.""What if it's the water giving me false positives? The news says there's all this stuff in the water. You take one," Darcy said, shoving the box back at Jane. "We need a control pee stick."





	1. He Said, She Said

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing!

“Brock, I’m late,” Darcy said, when he’d dragged her into the closet near Jane’s lab at SHIELD. He had his hands under her sweater already and was kissing her shoulder. He’d been on a two-week mission overseas and the Trojans were practically burning a hole in his pocket as he searched for her. He’d finally spotted her ahead of him in a hallway, seized the back of her shirt, and pulled her backwards into the closet with him.

“Late for what?” he said. Like an idiot. “Meeting?” he murmured into her hair, freeing one hand from her breast to unzip his tac pants. “I been missing you. Give me eight minutes, just eight minutes,” he said. But she didn’t go soft and yielding in his arms like she normally would. She made a sound.

“No, late for, uh, my period,” she said, prying his other hand away from her bra.

“What?” he said, freezing in place. _She couldn’t be,_ he thought. They’d been careful. It was casual between them, but they hooked up at his place or hers frequently enough that he knew she was responsible about taking her pills. And he kept his shit locked down. He wasn’t a good candidate for fatherhood.

“It’s probably nothing,” she said. He thought she sounded nervous, but he couldn’t see her face. “But I’m going to see the SHIELD physician tomorrow, having them run a test. So it’s official. Because those drugstore tests---they might not be reliable.”

“Have you taken the drugstore tests?” he asked carefully, turning her around so she was facing him. Her eyes flickered to his face, then down to a spot around his chest. “Darcy?” he said. “What did it say?”

“Positive,” she said quietly.

“One positive might not mean--” he began, but she shook her head.

“Four positives. I took the test four times. Jane and I--we--we staggered manufacturers to make the results more reliable, followed all the directions, repeated the test on a different day, I even had Jane do one as a control, hers was negative,” she said, swallowing. “Four positives.”

“Oh,” he said. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” she said. “So, I’ll call you when I find out for sure. My appointment’s at two, so it’ll be sometime after that.”

“Okay,” he said, not sure what she wanted him to say. He was shit at comforting people. Did she want to terminate the pregnancy, if she was pregnant? Would she want him to take her to a clinic? Or was that something she’d prefer Jane do? They’d never talked about this shit. They were careful. This wasn’t supposed to happen when you used two forms of birth control, for fuck’s sake.

 

He stood in the closet for a few minutes after she’d left, trying to process. As he reached down to zip his pants, still half-hard, he knocked over a broom with a clatter. “Fuck,” he said. “Fuck fuck fuck--”

 

***

He was waiting at medical when she and Jane arrived the next day. “Rumlow,” Jane said, giving him an _I’m not impressed with you look_. He realized she probably hated him. Maybe had always hated him.

“Foster,” he said.

“I just got here,” Darcy said, frowning. “They haven’t done the, uh, thing yet.” She was being quiet, looking around as if they’d be overheard. He nodded to show he understood. He could be subtle.

“I know,” he said. “I thought I would bring you coffee.” He gestured to the latte in his hand.

“I don’t know if I’m supposed to--” she said, frowning. “Do you know?”

“Huh?” he said.

“I don’t know, either, I’ll check,” Jane said, whipping out her phone.

“Darcy Lewis?” a voice called. It was the nurse, ready to take her back. She still hadn’t taken the coffee, so he got up to follow her into the exam room. Jane tried to, too, but the nurse said they only had room for one guest per patient. Jane sighed and looked at him.

“It should be you,” she told Brock.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Yeah,” Darcy repeated. The two of them followed the nurse.

“We’ll need you to put on a gown for the physical, then we’ll draw blood for the test,” the nurse announced to Darcy in the small room.

“Okay, sure,” Darcy said. “Do you know if pregnant women should drink coffee?”

“Oh,” he said. “That’s what you meant? I didn’t get it. That’s a thing? I thought it was just booze and cigarettes?” The nurse looked between them, something flickering in her eyes.

“I’ll ask,” she said neutrally, departing.

“Oh God,” Darcy muttered, as the door clicked shut. “What am I going to do if the answer is _no?”_

“Decaf?” he said.

 

Darcy turned around and started to undress with her back to him. He set the coffees on the floor to help her with the flimsy exam gown. She hadn’t asked, but it was cold in the room and she was struggling to take off her leggings standing up. The exam table was a little too tall for her to climb on easily. “Ahhh!” she shrieked, jumping in surprise when he touched her bare back.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said. He stepped back.

“I’m not having sex with you right now, for God’s sake,” she said.

“I was just trying to help you with the gown,” he said.

“Oh,” she said. “Sorry. I thought you were...” she trailed off.

“If you want, we could fool around tonig--” he began. She turned and looked at him with an incredulous expression, before the nurse opened the door a crack.

“You can have coffee, but limit the amount to 12 ounces or less a day,” she said. Catching sight of their expressions and Darcy in her bra with her pants around her knees, she continued. “I’ll give you a few more minutes.”

“Thank you,” Darcy said, trying to lean against the table to pull her leggings over her ankle. Brock stared. “Why are you staring at me like that?” she asked him.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Here.” He sort of shoved the coffee at her and then picked her up and put her on the table. She took a small sip.

“Ahhh,” she said.

“I’ll get these,” he said, kneeling to slide off the leggings.

“It’s not like you don’t have practice,” she said sharply. He looked up at her in her bra and panties. Something about her looked different.

“Are your tits bigger?” he asked, squinting.

“Swelling and tenderness are an early pregnancy symptom, Jane and I looked it up,” she said, sighing.

 

The doctor entered a few seconds after they got the embarrassing paper gown on. “I’m going to draw the blood for a test, but it will take two to three days for results,” she said to Darcy. He was sort of behind the door, but he recognized the woman’s long, red ponytail. This was the physician who’d done his last cleared-for-duty physical after he’d been shot in Cameroon. He’d asked her to dinner and she’d blushingly said she had a boyfriend. Well, this was fucking awkward.

“That long?” he said. She turned and noticed him for the first time.

“Yes, Commander Rumlow,” the doctor said, frowning. She looked back at Darcy and rolled over a stool to sit on. “Are you experiencing any other symptoms beyond a missed period?” she asked, as she drew the blood.

“Yes,” Darcy said. “Tenderness and swelling of the breasts, fatigue, some vomiting--”

“Vomiting?” he said, alarmed.

“I walked by the breakroom yesterday and someone had heated up spaghettios or something,” Darcy said.

“Those are terrible on a non-pregnant day,” the doctor said sympathetically, handing off the vial. “Run the qualitative blood test for pregnancy to confirm,” she told the nurse assisting her.

“Yes, ma’am,” the nurse said, leaving the room.   

“It’s perfectly normal to experience nausea and vomiting early in a pregnancy. You reported that you were on low-dose birth control pills on this form, right?” she said to Darcy. “And that you always used condoms?”

“Yes,” Brock said. Darcy nodded.

“How could I be pregnant?” she asked. “Is there a chance I’m not? We were always careful.” The doctor looked at Brock.

“Is it all right if I discuss your HYDRA medical history with her?” she asked.

“What does that mean?” Darcy said. “You have a HYDRA medical history? _The_ HYDRA?”

“Yeah,” Brock said at the same time. “If it’s relevant? Why is it relevant?”

“You were exposed to HYDRA serums”---Brock nodded--”which caused you to survive the Triskelion collapse,” the doctor said. “HYDRA was trying to replicate the effects of Captain Rogers’ serum on their agents within SHIELD with experimental serums,” she clarified, looking at Darcy.

“You survived that building collapse?” Darcy said. “The one from the news?” She looked horrified. “I didn’t know--” she began.

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s not important. I was doing undercover work for Fury at the time.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” the doctor said. “If I remember correctly, you had extensive third degree burns to 80% of your body that were later healed by Helen Cho’s Cradle device that repairs damaged tissue? Meaning that your reproductive functions have been restore to pre-collapse levels.” Brock nodded.

“What?” Darcy said. “You never said--”

“It’s classified,” he said promptly. He’d been Fury’s triple agent within HYDRA. He and Jack had been the only SHIELD-loyal agents on his old team. Also, the only survivors.

“Yes,” the physician said, “but relevant to Miss Lewis because we’ve noticed an unusual fertility boost in agents who received serum #519. Low dose birth control is insufficient to prevent pregnancy and regular condoms don’t work with serum-enhanced sperm--”

“What?” he said. “No one fucking told me regular condoms don’t work.”

“Our findings are tentative because there is such a small pool of impacted agents--” the physician began.

“You could still circulate a damn email,” he said, raising his voice. “You send out a fucking email when the flu shot form goes from green to pink, but you don’t tell me that I’ve got _enhanced fucking sperm?_ Do you know how many _fucking_ kids I could have by now?”

“I’m very sorry,” the physician said wryly. “But it will take two or three days to verify if you even have one.” She looked at a stunned-looking Darcy. “Then we can discuss your next steps, Miss Lewis. The good news is that the serums and Cradle treatments should have also mitigated any genetic liabilities related to your age,” she said to Brock.

“What?” Darcy said.

“Fathers over fifty have increased likelihood of passing on conditions like schizophrenia, but that’s related to aging sperm, so your baby should be fine,” she said.

“You’re over fifty?” she said, her pretty mouth a circle of surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“How old are you?” Darcy asked him.

“Fifty-one,” he said.

 

“What the hell, Brock?” Darcy said quietly, once they’d left the room and walked out to the waiting room. Jane looked up.

“I think I have the right to be a little pissed,” he said defensively. “They should have told me.”

“That is not what I meant,” Darcy said.

“You can have twelves ounces of regular coffee a day,” Jane said. “I’m tracking down a source for reliable decaf, too.”

“Thank you,” Darcy said, sounding grateful. She looked at Brock. “I’ll call you as soon as I hear anything, but whatever happens, I’d like to be discreet, okay?”

“Yeah,” he said. He frowned. Should he hug her? He reached out and gave her an awkward half-hug. For a fraction of a second, she leaned against him in a familiar way and he rubbed her back gently.

“Darce,” Jane said, clearing her throat, “people can see you through the glass.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, pulling away from him. For a second she gave him a sad look that he’d never seen, but then she leaned up and whispered his ear. “Don’t get anybody else pregnant before we’ve found out, Grandpa,” she teased, her breath ghosting over his jawline. Then she gave him a frankly naughty look. It was all he could do not to drag her into another supply closet.

 

***

“So, it turns out I might be pregnant because he’s got super-sperm,” Darcy said dryly. She was spending the night at Jane and Thor’s. Jane thought she shouldn’t be alone.

“What?” Jane said.

“He was embedded in HYDRA during that thing everyone at SHIELD is so mysterious about and they experimented on him with serums to make him like Steve. Also, he’s fifty.”

“Holy shit,” Jane said. “He’s fifty?”

“Fifty-one,” she said. “Fifty one, was badly burned, got patched-up by Helen Cho, has super swimmers. I realized I don’t know anything about him at all. I might be having a baby with a virtual stranger.”

“Darce, you don’t have to do this, if you are pregnant,” Jane said seriously. “I’ll go with you to a clinic. Thor will, too. Just because you had one hookup weekend at your thirty-first birthday party doesn’t obligate you to have a baby with someone, okay?”

“About that,” Darcy said. “I think that weekend’s probably when I got pregnant, but it wasn’t the only time.”

“Oh,” Jane said. “How long?”

“Really, Jane?” Darcy said, raising an eyebrow and snickering. “Cause I’ll tell you.”

“You know what I mean,” Jane said.

“A few months.”

“Where?” she said. “How did I not know?”

“His place, my place, other places,” Darcy said. “We were quiet--”

“Oh my God, you had sex with him in my supply closet that day he was in there with you!” Jane said, pointing. “You told me he was helping you with a box! You lied to my _face.”_

“He was helping with, uh, my box?” Darcy said, scrunching her nose. “It’s technically true.”

“On my office supplies? Even the good Dry Erase pens?” Jane said. “Oh my God.”

“Shh, the baby doesn’t need to know that,” Darcy said. She giggled.

“You want to have the baby if you’re pregnant, don’t you?” Jane said quietly.

“I’m conflicted. I’ve been reading, Jane. Did you know that advanced maternal age starts at thirty-five? They call you a geriatric mom! Our fertility starts declining after that, risk of birth defects rises, your ovaries start making weirdo eggs, then boom, you’re in perimenopause, the whole freaking shebang. What if I wait for _the guy_ and then I can’t get pregnant?” Darcy said. “I don’t want to wait too long.”

“Shit, I’m older than you,” Jane said. She was thirty six. “Thirty-five? _Thirty-five?”_

“It gets worse at forty,” Darcy said. “Do you want the citations?” Jane shook her head.

“Ignorance is bliss,” she said.

“Yup,” Darcy said. “I still _feel_ young.”

“Uh-huh. What will Rumlow say?” Jane said. “If you keep the baby?”

“I don’t know, but I have my doubts that he’ll want to be all that involved, honestly. He travels for work, he’s not interested in relationships,” Darcy said. “He might even give up parental rights if I don’t want child support.”

“So then it would be just your baby,” Jane said. “Legally?”

“Yes,” Darcy said. One of her cousins had a baby with a guy at eighteen and then he’d given up parental rights after they split and she married someone else who’d wanted to adopt her son. They were fine. And Darcy knew a lot of single moms. Who were fine. She’d be fine, too. She looked at Jane. Jane was looking oddly canny. “What?” she said.

“If he gives you any trouble, we can flee to Asgard,” she said firmly. “Or get Thor to give your diplomatic status as a princess of one of the Nine Realms.”

“Did you seriously just shift from helping me get an abortion to helping me interstellar steal a baby in under five minutes?” Darcy said.

“Always be prepared,” Jane said. “I’m going to check on that decaf and get you those baby books. Do you still want me to hide the scented candles?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. At first, she’d thought she had the flu or something, because her fireside marshmallow candles were making her queasy. “But don’t throw them away because the websites say the morning sickness goes away soon.”

“Uh-huh,” Jane said.  “Sure it does. You need to eat more vegetables!” She snatched the bag of tortilla chips out of Darcy’s hands.

“Hey, those have corn!” Darcy yelled. “Don’t they?”

 

***

Brock didn’t tell anyone. Not even Jack. Certainly not his Ma and his younger sister in the Bronx, who had long predicted that he’d knock up somebody one day. Instead, he sat in his apartment drinking beer and waiting and not really watching a boxing match that he’d paid too much money for, while he contemplated calling her. She hadn’t asked him to call, though. Everytime he looked at his phone, he wondered what she wanted, what she’d decide. It wasn’t like he had any right to tell her what to do. Fuck, it wasn’t like he knew what to do, either. End the pregnancy? Have the baby? He was too old to be a goddamned father. He imagined introducing himself as a first time father at fifty-one--with a thirty-one year old he’d been having casual hookups with for four months. “It’s a fucking _Dr. Phil_ episode,” he told his phone screen, then closed the call app, sighing. “And I’m talking to myself alone in my apartment, wishing I had the balls to call her,” he said out loud. “Why do you hate me?” He looked at the ceiling.

The last question had been directed at God.  God didn’t reply. “Typical!” he yelled. God never talked to him. God hadn’t talked to him when he was seven and sincerely praying that his cancer-stricken dog would make it, God hadn’t talked during the Triskelion’s collapse when he thought he was a dead man, and God certainly hadn’t said shit when he woke up to find out that he was not a dead man after all. So no dice on the subject of babies. Or baby mamas. No spiritual guidance whatsofuckingever. He’d have to make this one himself. But he knew he’d make a terrible father. He was never home, for one. Reading bedtime stories and making lunches? Shit. He couldn’t do that. He’d offer her money, he thought. He could do that. Financial support, he could do. And maybe visit the kid at birthdays and Christmas. You had to visit at birthdays and Christmas, right? And probably weekends?

Two days later, she called him. He’d been training in the gym and his phone was in his locker. She wanted to meet him after work at her place. Brock stared at the phone. That meant she was pregnant, right? There was no reason to have an in-person meeting if there was no baby. “What’s wrong, mate?” Jack said to him.

“Nothing,” Brock said. “Nothing’s wrong.”

 

He was waiting on her doorstep when she got home. “Hey,” he said, when he spotted her walking up the sidewalk from the parking lot, “let me get those.” She was carrying a few reusable shopping bags.

“Sorry, we ran late,” Darcy said. “I had to stop for bananas and, uh, oh, God, what’s the word? I’ve forgotten the word for those--” she said, pointing at the second tote. He’d taken it from her.

“Zucchini,” he said, looking in the bag and frowning.

“That’s it,” she said, smiling brightly and mock-slapping her forehead. “Zucchini. Jane’s got me eating _vegetables_. Jane!” She grinned at him as she unlocked the door to her apartment. He felt a jolt of arousal. That wide mouth was his kryptonite. He’d obsessed about it when she first joined SHIELD. Darcy had bopped into a staff meeting with donuts, waving at Cap with a big grin, looked around the room at all the serious agents and announced, “where’s the party, Steverini?” His eyes had gone straight to her face--and those glossy rose-tinted lips. He’d been doing things to get her to smile since that moment. Well, at first he’d wanted the smile. Then the laugh. But the way she said his name had been pretty good, too. He was thinking about that when she spoke again. “I don’t know why I’m so forgetful,” she said.

“Pregnancy brain?” he said, swallowing. He’d heard that joke before.

“Shut up, you sound like Jane. And, um, yes. It’s a yes on the baby,” she said, nodding. “The doctor called today. I thought we could talk about things, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, “absolutely.”

“Good,” she said. She smiled at him again and he felt the crazy urge to kiss her. She was pregnant because of her damn mouth. And he was quoting fucking _Rocky_ all of a sudden? He needed to lock this shit down, be reasonable. He knew his limits. He made her sit down while he cooked, though. She was pregnant. “I bought a zoodle thingy for the zucchini,” Darcy told him.

“A what?” he said.

“That,” she said, pointing to a little machine on the counter. “I just haven’t read the directions yet. It makes noodles out of vegetables? More vitamins or whatever.”

“You got directions?” Brock asked. Twenty minutes later, he’d worked out the whole zoodles thing. “Is this enough calories?” he fretted, as he stirred them in a pan so they’d soften. “I could put more butter and cheese on them?”

“This is music to my earlobes,” she joked.

“Huh?” he said.

“Weird joke from a tv show. Besides the baby is like the size of a chicken nugget right now,” Darcy said. “If that big. Jane read that it takes eleven weeks for them to get as big as a credit card. It doesn’t need that much food.”

“Please don’t call my child a chicken nugget,” Brock said dryly.

“You think of it as your baby?” she asked.

“I’m the father, right?” he said. “So, it’s my child. That’s generally how it works.” He said it with more certainty than he felt. He knew she wouldn’t pretend that the baby was his if it wasn’t--she had a weirdly developed sense of honesty-- but he was shaky on fatherhood. “You want to keep him?” he asked quietly.

“Him?” Darcy said, raising both eyebrows behind her glasses.

“Or her,” he corrected.

“Yeah,” she said, “I do. I want to keep the baby.”

“Okay,” he said, trying to gear himself up to let her down easy. She’d want to get married, right? But he wasn’t ready for that. Not at all. He’d be a worse husband than he would a father, probably. He’d have to say they’d discuss it later, put her off--

“But that doesn’t obligate you in any way,” Darcy said.

“What’s that mean?” he said, sitting up straighter. _What the fuck,_ he thought.

“I don’t want you to feel obligated?” she said.

“I’m the father, I’m obligated,” he said bluntly. “What, you think I’d just walk away? Leave you in the lurch?”

“Um, actually, I’d be willing to forgo child support if you wanted to, uh, give sole custody to me, actually,” she said. “If you don’t want to be involved at all.” She looked down, twirled her fork, and swallowed.

“No,” he said.

“No as in you don’t want to be involved or, no on sole custody for me?” Darcy asked, frowning when she looked up.

“You think you could raise a baby alone?” Brock said. He was insulted. He’d made her zoodles. He’d gone to the appointment. Wasn’t it obvious that he was stepping up? Reluctantly, but he was stepping the fuck up. “In this shithole apartment?” he added, gesturing to the room around them.

“A, just because it doesn’t have a private garage doesn’t make it a shithole--”

“It’s a safety issue,” he said. “You’re going to be walking around with a baby, a fucking diaper bag, and groceries, just waiting to be mugged by somebody. With my baby.”

“---it’s in a good school district, B, I do what I want, and C, any child of mine would be a princess of Asgard,” Darcy said back, ignoring his security lecture. “I have resources. I’m not some helpless little woman you knocked up, Brock Rumlow.”

“Oh, yeah?” he said.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, tilting her chin up at him aggressively. He put his fork down and circled the table, stopping a few inches from her.

“That so?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Uh-huh. You got it all handled?” he said, looking into her eyes.

“I do,” Darcy said. “I can do this.”

“You think you can do this without me?” he said, tapping his chest.

“I could make it work,” she said stubbornly. She was glaring at him now

“Sure you could,” he said, leaning down to kiss her. He grasped the back of her neck, sucking on her bottom lip.

“What did you do that for?” Darcy asked, when they separated. She looked surprised.

“Can’t kiss alone, you need somebody else for that,” he said. “You wanna fool around?”

“You can’t get me pregnant twice, right?” she said, when they were kissing against her bedroom door. “There’s no weird serum fraternal almost-twins loophole?” Darcy asked. She’d stopped trying to pry off his clothes.

“No,” he said. “At least, I don’t think so. You know, maybe I should ask Martinez. He got serumed. He has eight kids now.” He grinned, as he undid her buttons.

“You’re teasing me,” she said, swatting at him.

“Get in the bed,” he told her, steering her towards it. When they sank down, the wrought-iron bed squeaked. “I still gotta fix that,” he said.

“I don’t mind it,” she said. She was naked when he thought about the nugget. “What?” she said, when he’d lifted his head from her breasts. She didn’t seem to mind him touching them, despite their tenderness.

“Has Jane read anything about sex during pregnancy?” he asked. He looked down at her still-soft belly. You’d never know she was pregnant. “Won’t hurt the baby, will it?”

“Perfectly fine for the most part, although lots of women experience a lack of interest in sex in the third trimester,” she said, speaking in what sounded like OB/GYN dot-com.

“Well, no fucking wonder, if you’re shuffling around with a watermelon-sized belly and swollen feet or some shit,” he said. She laughed. Pregnancy stomachs looked painful, he thought. He’d never actually touched one. Were they firm, like an old man’s beer belly? They looked like it.

“Did you Google?” she said, sounding curious.

“Nah,” he lied. “But there’s no reason to use condoms tonight, right?”

“I dunno, you been sleeping with any other women lately?” she asked archly.

“Dozens and dozens,” he said dryly. “I don’t even let ‘em sleep at my place. I put in a revolving door in my bedroom,” he joked.

“Shut up,” she said, bracketing his hips with her thighs. The skin on the inside of her thighs was velvety soft and duskier than the rest of her. He shifted his weight gently on top of her. He would be easy tonight. Careful. Nothing crazy. He pushed inside her.

“Good?” he asked, kissing her mouth.

“Uh-huh,” she said, “you can move.” He shifted his hips back and forth tentatively.

“Still good?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Darcy moaned. “So good. More, baby. Please.”

“Yeah,” he said in a low voice, cupping one of her thighs gently, so he could get a better angle. He didn’t want to be rough.  

 

Afterwards, she rested her head on his chest and he listened to her breathing. “I should go,” he said. She looked up at him sleepily.

“Hmm?” Darcy said.

“I should go,” he said, swallowing and waiting for the fireworks. “I’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she said, yawning. “I get to sleep in. Jane is waking herself up now, she says I need more sleep.” She wiggled off him--grinning--and actually swiped the pillow from under his head. As he put his pants on, she started to snore. _Great,_ he thought. _How am I supposed to lock the fucking door if she’s asleep? It’s not safe not to lock the deadbolt. Her lock is shit, anyway. She needs a better lock._

He saw her keys in the kitchen when he left the bedroom. “I’m doing this for their protection,” he said, sighing heavily. He took the key and locked the door behind him. There was a key copying machine in SHIELD’s basement, so he made the quick trip to work, copied her key, and returned to the apartment. He was replacing her original key when she must’ve woken up. “It’s me,” he called.

“Brock?” Darcy said, sounding confused. “I thought you left.”

“I came back,” he said. “We should talk about your security.” He moved to lean against her door frame.

“Now?” she said, scrunching her nose.

“In the morning,” he said, sitting down to take his boots and pants off. “Give me back my pillow, pillow thief.”

“I need pillows for two now,” she kidded, as he crawled into bed with her. “You’re so warm,” she said.

“I’m leaving early tomorrow,” he said. “Not staying the whole night.”

"Sure," she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea why I'm working on this instead of my other WIPs, but it just won't leave me alone. I read about "Marriage, Italian Style" the other day--a 60s Italian comedy where Sophia Loren and Marcello Mastroianni's characters are together on and off for *twenty years* before she tricks him into getting married by pretending to be dying and it gave me ideas. And they won't stop pestering me. 
> 
> Anyhow, this will not be a story where Darcy pretends to be dying, but I'm fairly sure that Brock Rumlow's mother will show up to throw things at him because "you are letting my grandchild be born out of wedlock? You are too old to be this stupid!"


	2. Hi, Mom!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos!

He’d already showered when Darcy woke up fully. She had a vague memory of the water running when she’d slid over into the warm space he’d left when he got out of bed. Was that coffee? She rolled over and looked at the clock. It was quarter to eight. She thought he was leaving early. “Brock?” she called out.

“Yeah, babe?” he said.

“Is that coffee I smell?” she said.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming, I’m coming,” he said in a grumpy voice. She sat up in bed. He came around the corner carrying a mug and a plate. “I got you decaf.”

“Oh, thank you,” she said, surprised.

“And toast,” he said. “You like cinnamon toast, right?” Darcy nodded. She’d made it for the two of them during their first full weekend together. He’d taken her to his place--his condo was much nicer than her apartment--- because she’d mentioned that her own tub was too little for fun and sexytimes. It had been a good weekend. After that, they’d mostly stayed at his place. She realized she’d been so busy drinking his good wine and enjoying his pricey espresso machine and giant bathtub that she hadn’t noticed that he never volunteered important self-info, like ‘oh, almost crushed by a building during that whole HYDRA deal.’ Or, ‘hey, babe, I’m fifty goddamn years old and I’ve got super swimmers.’ Only the last one wasn’t really his fault. He’d looked torn between screaming at that doctor and fainting when he’d found out, honestly.

“Thank you,” she repeated, more wryly. It dawned on her, just from the way he was frowning at her painted wood furniture and colorful duvet as he looked around the room, that he’d probably taken her home with him because he was kind of an apartment snob. His place was all minimalist glossy whites and glass walls and sharp corners. Totally not kid-friendly. “Something wrong?” she asked. He made an indeterminate sound.

“Gotta go,” he said. “I’m late for a work thing. And you need more protein in your fridge.”

“Okay,” she said. “But I think we should try to keep a lid on work gossip until I start to show. I mean, you can tell close friends and family, I’m telling Jane and Thor, but it seems smarter to keep stuff private for awhile.” Darcy had read that it wasn’t uncommon to miscarry early in pregnancy and she thought she could cope with that better if the whole world didn’t know about it. Imagining people saying, “how’s the baby?” with happy faces and having to disclose that she’d miscarried sounded awful.

“Yeah,” he said. “Good idea.” He wrinkled his forehead. “So, uh, do you want me to call you tonight? Check in, make sure everything’s good?”

“Sure,” she said. “Sounds like a plan.” She made to get up.

“Don’t get up,” he said. “I copied your key, so I can lock the door behind me and you can stay asleep, I hope that’s not--” He stopped. “I did it for safety,” he said. “No other reason.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. “It’s probably a good idea for you to have a key, anyway.” She laughed. “Oh God, I just envisioned myself getting so pregnant that I have to call you because I can’t get up, like those LifeAlert ads. Help I’ve gotten knocked up and I can’t get up. Is there a Preggo Lady LifeAlert?”

“I don’t know,” he said, as if she was being serious.

“That was a joke, you can laugh at it,” Darcy told him, biting her lip to repress a giggle.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll call tonight.” He hesitated a fraction, then leaned over and kissed her lightly. Not like his usual self at all. He was totally freaked out, Darcy thought. This was probably the beginning of him doing a slow fade out or something? But she could handle it. She was badass self-rescuing almost-princess of Asgard, after all.

 

Darcy got in the shower after he left, still giggling over the idea of calling _Brock Rumlow_ to say that she was too pregnant to get up. How weird was her life? She reached for her favorite shampoo, the Coconut Miracle Oil one that smelled like a vacation somewhere tropical, and squeezed some into her hand and slapped it on her head. Then she promptly gagged and almost threw up in the shower. “Awww, little Nugget!” she said, rinsing frantically. “No, not the fun shampoo.”

 

Darcy sighed. Nausea was mean. Also, she really hoped she’d gotten all the champagne Brock had supplied her with recently out of her system before they’d conceived the Chicken Nugget. She didn’t want the Nugget to be a baby boozehound.

  


***

 

“Why were you late?” Jack said. Brock was never late. But he had missed the first half of their STRIKE staff meeting, which was bloody unheard of. Jack, as one of the few surviving SHIELD loyalists in STRIKE--along with Romanoff, a now-retired Barton, Brock, and a dozen others--had been promoted. He ran STRIKE Bravo now.

“Can’t talk about it,” Brock muttered.

“What?” Jack said. “C’mon.” There was no one around as agents moved out of the room.

“Not here,” Brock said. “Not here.” Jack raised an eyebrow.

“Right-o,” he said, grinning slyly. “Must’ve been some night.”

“I--will you take a break with me? Do you have a minute?” Brock said, swallowing. He looked nervous, Jack realized. Was he sick, the taller man wondered? He wasn’t acting right.

 

They went to a coffee shop near the office. After they sat down, Brock looked around. He was casing the restaurant. “Is this related to HYDRA?” Jack said, horrified. Had they missed a mole?

“No, no,” Brock said, still scanning. “It’s nothing like that, but, uh--uh, it’s big, man. I’m all messed up.”

“Yeah?” Jack said. Brock rolled the silverware bundle between his palm and the table a few times, then leaned in, chin down. His eyes flicked up to Jack’s face and then back to the table top. “Mate, whatever this is about--” Jack began.

“It’s about the baby,” Brock said abruptly.

“What baby?” Jack said, frowning.

“I wanted you to be to know that, uh, we’re having a baby,” Brock whispered.

“The hell we are,” Jack said. “Gavin’d murder me”---Gavin was Jack’s boyfriend--”what are you talking about, mate?”

“Not you and me, _her_ and me, dipshit,” Brock said, “we’re having a baby.”

“Who?” Jack said. Before Brock could speak again, Jack started to laugh, “you got somebody pregnant?”

“Shhhh,” Brock said. “We’re keeping it quiet. She’s not showing yet.”

“Who is it? That Margot who liked the kinky business? The other one you were flirting with,” he snapped his fingers, “what’s her name, Lindsey? Or, uh, was it Meghan?”

“It’s none of those,” Brock said. “None of those women. Thank fuck it wasn’t Margot,” he muttered.

“So?”

“It’s Lewis,” Brock said.

“Rachel Lewis from Accounting? The tall ‘un?” Jack said.

“No, God, no. Darcy! Darcy Lewis,” Brock hissed.

“What?” Jack said. “You’ve been seeing _her?”_

“So?” Brock said, squaring his shoulders. “Nothing wrong with her.”

“What is she, twenty-four?” Jack asked.

“You were at her birthday party, asshole, you know damn well she ain’t no twenty-four,” Brock grumbled. “Stop that shit.” Jack raised an eyebrow sardonically. “She’s thirty-one, okay? Thirty-one.”

“You’re having a baby with Darcy Lewis?” Jack said, his face splitting into a wide, wild grin.

“I’m having a baby with Darcy Lewis, yes,” Brick said, rubbing his jaw.

“You’re going to have a little ankle-biter!” Jack said, roaring with laughter. “You!” He laughed until tears ran down his face. “With a woman young enough to be your daughter! Oh, that poor girl, everybody’ll think she brought her dad to birthing class.”

“Fuck you,” Brock said. “It’s not like I did it on purpose.” He leaned forward. “It’s serum 5-1-9. It makes you more fertile,” he whispered. “We were using two fucking kinds of birth control.”

“Good on ya, mate,” Jack said sarcastically. It was the way Australians said _great job._

“She offered to take full custody and relinquish child support”--he ignored Jack’s sarcasm--”but I’m the father. It don’t seem right to me, giving up parental rights,” Brock said.

“She offered to raise the baby alone?” Jack said. “By herself?” He looked skeptical.

“She could do it, she’s got resources,” Brock said defensively. “She’s been taking care of Foster all these years.”

“Thor, too,” Jack said. He paused, then sly grin crossed his face. “You think he’ll hit you with the hammer for getting his kid sister pregnant?”  
“She’s not his kid sister,” Brock said.

“He’s a thousand years old, I reckon she’s his kid sister,” Jack said.

“Fuck,” Brock muttered. “I hadn’t even thought about it.”

“Haven’t told your mum yet, either, I s’pose?” Jack said.

“Oh shit,” he said. “Fuck. Fuck.”

“I wonder how old Darcy’s mum is,” Jack said with deceptive mildness. He’d learned to troll from Cap. “She’s from North Carolina, yeah? Some of these southerners, they get married straightaway after school. Her mum and you could be about the same age.”

“I’ve saved your life three fucking times. Three times,” Brock told Jack. “And this is how you repay me?”

 

***

 

“Ughhhhhh,” Darcy said, rocked by another wave of morning sickness in the lab.

“I’ll get you more caffeine free ginger ale,” Jane said. “And more saltines. Stay in your chair.”

“Thank you,” Darcy said. Her nausea and morning sickness were really severe today. She’d had to pull the car over twice on the way into work. Eventually, she figured out that she wasn’t nauseous only when she was literally eating, so she was munching on saltines.

“So, are you going to tell me about Brock?” Jane said, returning with a can of ginger ale. “How did he take it?” They’d spent the morning trying to solve her puking problem and hadn’t talked about it.

“He says he doesn’t want to give up custody—” Darcy began.

“Really?” Jane said.

“—he was kinda weird about it and then we had sex,” Darcy said.

“I thought you were past that phase of your, uh, relationship?” Jane said.

“I thought so, but no,” Darcy said. “I thought he’d get phobic about touching me, honestly. But he went and had an extra key made while I was asleep and got me decaf--”

“Which decaf? Some of the decafs are not actually decaf, _60 Minutes_ did a report,” Jane said, suddenly alert. “I have a list.”

“Jane?” Darcy said. Jane was sorting through paperwork, looking for it. Darcy realized there was a new stack of pregnancy books on Jane’s desk.

“Yeah?” she said.

“Are you treating my pregnancy as a bibliographic research project for a future pregnancy?” Darcy asked. She wanted to ask if Jane was annotating her bibliography.

“Maybe,” Jane said. “But I got you that folic acid foods list and the prenatal vitamins you like.”

“I do appreciate that,” Darcy said.

“Besides, we have to start soon. I’m thirty-six,” Jane murmured, half to herself. “Would you like to go to prenatal yoga? I’ve read good things and considering how stressful this pregnancy might be--”

“I don’t feel stressed,” Darcy said honestly. “As long as I have more saltines.”

“I’ll check on the number of sleeves,” Jane said, getting up in alarm.

“My mom is getting into yoga now, though,” Darcy told Jane. “Maybe I should. I’m going to call her today.”

 

Darcy dialed her mother at her office. It was time for her to tell Elizabeth Matthews, formerly Elizabeth Matthews-Lewis, that she was pregnant. She was 99.9% sure that her mom would be happy. Maribel, her mom’s office administrator, answered, so she left a message for her mom to call back for major news when she got out of court. An hour later, her phone rang. “Hey, sweetie, I just got out of a hearing,” her mother said.

“Did it go well?” Darcy asked, sipping her ginger ale. Her mom was a part of a non-profit called the Freedom Project. They provided appeals assistance to poor clients and DNA testing and other resources to people who might’ve been wrongfully convicted. Her mother sighed.

“We’ve had a slight setback. The state crime lab is really dragging their feet on the test we’ve requested,” she said. “I’m going to write another letter to the governor about budgeting and delays, see if we can’t get any celebrity co-signers--”

“Thor and Steve would co-sign, mom,” Darcy said.

“Oh, honey, I can’t ask your friends to compromise their values,” her mom said.

“Steve would love to sign, I’m sure, and Thor will once he understands what we’re talking about,” Darcy joked. She opened another sleeve of crackers. She felt like her mom could practically see them though the phone.

“I’m glad you’ve got such good friends,” she told Darcy. “So, what’s the news? You told Maribel you had big news?”

“Well,” Darcy said, biting her lip, “are you sitting down?”

“I’ll sit, what is it?” she said. “I’m sitting outside the courthouse.”

“I’m having a baby,” Darcy said. There was an excited, high-pitched sound on the other end of the phone. “I’m very excited about it, too,” Darcy said, laughing.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so glad. I’m totally thrilled and I don’t want to be thrilled by myself,” her mom said. “How far along are you?”

“Six, seven weeks, maybe?” Darcy said. “Not far at all.” On the other end of the phone, her mom made another little happy sound.

“I’m going to be a grandma!” she yelled. There was background laughter. “I just fist-bumped the circuit court judge.”

“Good,” Darcy said, grinning.

“Can I tell people?” she said.

“I haven’t told Dad yet,” Darcy said.

“Do you think he has Instagram?” she asked. “Can I take a picture of my happy face? I want you to see my happy face.”

“No, Dad does not,” Darcy said. Then she started to laugh. “You’re an instagram now!” she told her mom.

“I’m getting that on a t-shirt ASAP,” she said. “Someone’s got to have had that idea for a t-shirt.”

 

They’d almost hung up when her mother asked who the father was. “Are you together?” she said breezily. Darcy had known her mother wouldn’t mind that she wasn’t married or even if she had no contact with the father at all. Her dad, on the other hand….

“Um, kinda? He wants to be involved with the baby. He works for SHIELD and travels, so I’m not sure how it will all shake out, but he turned down my offer to give up child support in exchange for full custody and sole parental rights,” Darcy said.

“You offered him that right off the bat?” her mom said, sounding surprised.

“Why not? It was kinda an accident, Mom. We were using birth control and he’s, um, a little older, so I thought I’d give him the opportunity to jump off the ride, if he wanted that--” Darcy said. Her mother started to laugh.

“You are a terrible negotiator,” she said. “You’ve always been too honest for your own good. You can’t lie to save your life, you have no guile, and you’re too blunt to be tactful and appropriate in job interviews or when you talk to cops. I still can’t believe you made that fake ID for Thor. What did the father say when he turned down your exit offer?”

“He got a little offended and then we had sex,” Darcy admitted. Her mother laughed harder.

“I cannot wait to meet this man,” she said.

“He has an Instagram,” Darcy said. She gave her mother Brock’s social media handle. He mostly used it for photos of vacations and him working out with semi-famous DC boxers and trainers.

“Oh my God, honey,” she said. “He’s a hunk! What have you gotten yourself into? Does he live at the gym?”

“Mom, that’s my baby daddy, be respectful,” Darcy said jokingly. At her mom’s snort of laughter, she admitted it, too. “Yeah, okay, he’s a hunk. I don’t even think that last one does him justice.”

“Are those abs real or are they photoshop?” she asked.

“Real,” Darcy said, biting her lip and grinning. “Very real. I’ve seen ‘em.”

“The baby will be beautiful. What is the name of my daughter’s gorgeous baby daddy?” she asked.

“Brock Rumlow,” Darcy said. “He’s from New York, Mom. The Bronx. His family is Italian.”

“Oh, your daddy is going to hate that. Can I be there when you tell him you got knocked up by a  Yankee? I want to see your father’s face. Is he Catholic, too?” she asked, sounding gleeful.

“Yes,” Darcy said. “I think? He’s not really observant. That’s why I can’t let him near Grandma Marie. Mom, I know she’ll give him her Baptist tracts.” Her mother started to laugh.

“I forgot she used to give those damn things out to the kids on Halloween,” she said. “What was it Marie told you about Catholics when you were a baby and then you said it in front of that nice Mrs. Kennedy?”

“That Catholics worship the priest, not God. I still feel bad about that,” Darcy said. Her paternal grandma was a hardcore Baptist church lady of the judgmental variety. Mrs. Kennedy had been a sweet woman. Just remembering it made Darcy feel bad.

“Honey, you were seven, you had no idea she was a fool and a bigot. I’m so glad I don’t have a mother-in-law anymore. Is Brock’s mother alive?”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said.

“Your whole life, I’ve told you, if you get a man--”

“Get a man whose mother is dead, I know, Mom,” Darcy repeated, grinning in spite of herself. There was a fraction of silence. She wondered if she’d lost her mother. “Are you still there?” Darcy asked.

“I’m looking at his Instagram!” Darcy’s mom said, laughing. “And drooling. Can Jane teach me something? Because clearly she’s taught _you_ something.”

“Shut up,” Darcy said, laughing.

“Do you like him?” her mother asked.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, “kinda. I mean, everything’s casual, so I have no idea--”

“Uh-huh,” her mother said. “I hear the like in your voice.”

“Yeah,” she said slowly. “Hey, did you have morning sickness?” Darcy asked.

“Honey, I nicknamed you Rosemary’s Baby in-utero. I puked all over town,” she said. “Day and night. The only way I didn’t puke was if I was actually e--”

“Eating,” Darcy finished with a sigh. Her mother started to laugh and laugh.

“Karma!” she said over the phone. “You’ve become your mother!”

  


***

 

Brock had been thinking about Darcy all day. Worrying, really. He had to tell his mother about the baby. But if he told his mother, she would descend on them and make demands. She would want them to raise the baby as a Catholic, for one. Darcy didn’t go to church, he was fairly sure.  Would she be offended? Then Ma would start harping on marriage. His mother could be a lot sometimes. He called Darcy after work. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said. “I wanted to check in with you.”

“Helloooo,” she said, sounding miserable.

“What’s wrong?” Brock said.

“Ughhhhhh,” Darcy said. “It’s all day morning sickness, apparently. It got worse after lunch. I’m camped out in my bathroom with saltines.”

“You’re eating in the bathroom?” he said, horrified.

“Technically, I’m eating on the floor,” she said. “As long as I eat and don’t move too quickly, I don’t puke. I wish this bathroom was big enough to drag a chair into.” She sighed. “Maybe I could get a really big bucket to put by my bed tonight.”

“I’m coming to get you,” he said.

“What?” Darcy said.

“You’re staying with me,” he said firmly. “Someone needs to keep an eye on you if it’s that bad. You could fall and hit your head.”

 

When he arrived, he found her curled up on a bathrobe she’d spread out on the bathroom floor, next to a box of saltines. She was listening to something on her phone. “Hey, baby daddy,” she said, taking an earbud out and lifting her head a fraction, “I’m catching up on my podcasts, so that’s a plus of whatever is happening here. It mostly feels like slow death.”

“I’m going to pack you a bag,” he said. “Where’s your suitcase?”

“Ummm, lost on a flight between Norway and Finland in 2015, current whereabouts unknown? I have a bunch of reusable shopping bags from The Animal Rescue Site, though. They’ll work,” she said. “They’re in my bedroom closet.” Muttering to himself, Brock went into her bedroom, found the big shiny bags with paw prints on them, and started filling them with clothes, underwear, anything she might need.

“What am I forgetting?” he called.

“Toothpaste, contact lens solution, and contact lenses in the case,” she yelled. She was in the bathroom off the living room. She came shuffling slowly into the room in her pajamas. “Do you remember Watergate?” she asked him.

“What?” he said.

“I’m listening to _Slow Burn._ Martha Mitchell was really interesting. Someone described her as a dippy saint,” she said.

“Who?” he said. “I was in daycare during Watergate.”

“Oh,” she said. “She was the wife of Nixon’s attorney general. She sort of tried to blow the whistle on the whole break-in thing, early on, but because she was famous for being his boozy, flippant socialite, nobody believed her. Nixon actually had her tranquilized by her security team when she threatened to go to the press. It’s wild,” she told him seriously. “She was buddies with Helen Thomas.” He nodded. He’d lived in DC long enough to have seen Helen Thomas around town a few times before she died.

“Do you need anything else?” he asked, gesturing to her bathroom.

“Ugh, no, all my makeup has a _smell._ Lotions are worse. That’s why I was in the other bathroom. I need to find my least-scented shampoo,” Darcy said. “The Nugget hates scented things.” She selected a bottle.

“She does?” Brock said.

“I see how you are, picking a gender already,” Darcy teased. “I do need my chocolate stash, though.” She opened her bathroom cabinets, picked out a few things, dumped them in a zipper bag, and handed it to him. “Should be enough for me to be presentable at work,” she said.

“I got underwear,” he said. “And your socks.”

“Real underwear or sexy underwear?” she said, looking in the bags. “Oh, real.”

“You’re sick,” he said. He’d picked out some of her stretchy pants and leggings, plus sweaters and tees. He knew she liked to be comfortable.

“Pregnancy isn’t a disease,” she told him in an arch voice.

“Where’s your chocolate stash?” he asked.

“I’ll get it, it’s specific things,” she said, burping a little. “Sorry, it’s, uh, my super smeller nose.”

“That’s okay,” he said.

He watched as she got a weird array of chocolate things out of the cabinets in the kitchen and talked: a hidden tin of peppermint bark (“Thor will find this if I leave it, he’s like a beagle when there’s peppermint bark”), several bags of hot cocoa, a box of chocolate cereal (“Jane says fortified cereal is a good source of folic acid and milk is good for calcium”) and bag of Hershey’s kisses. Then she took a ziplock bag and put her shampoo and conditioner in it. “Do you have milk? Real milk? With fat?” she asked him.

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s reduced fat, but yeah.”

 

When they got to his car and she opened the door, she recoiled. “What?” he said. His car was very clean. He’d just had it detailed. He was a clean person.

“New car smell,” she said, gagging on the pavement. “Oh God,” she moaned.

“Shit, I’m sorry, baby,” he said, rubbing her back. “I’ll roll down the windows. Air might help.”

“How would you know? Transport many pregnant women?” she asked, when she’d finished gagging. He looked at her, alarmed, but was relieved to realize she was teasing him. She raised an eyebrow at him as they stood in the parking lot.

“No,” he said. “But lots of people get seasick in the Navy and they always tell you to go out on the decks, get some air in good weather.”

“Oh,” she said. “Another factoid I didn’t know about you.”

“Not much to say. Enlisted at nineteen, gunner’s mate--”

“Gunner’s mate?” she said.

“Guns and weapons specialist. Then I was a Navy SEAL. Got injured in the field, banged up my shoulder, so they moved me onto tactical planning and gave someone else my old job. I missed being in the field when I’d recovered, so I put some feelers out. That was when Fury recruited me to join SHIELD. Then he asked me to infiltrate HYDRA. That was much later. HYDRA serums fixed the shoulder,” he said, “kept me going. You ready to try getting in?”

“Where have I heard that before?” she teased.

“Very cute,” he said, opening his car door again.

  


“I thought you were, like, thirty-eight,” she told him that night at his apartment. He laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. He’d gotten her more ginger ale and she was alternating between ginger ale and Hershey’s Kisses, which sounded disgusting. But she seemed happy on his couch, a bucket in front of her and covered in blankets. She had only thrown up once.

“Really?” he said, feeling a boost to his ego.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m like a baby babymama.” He grinned.

“Yeah, you are,” he said, smirking at her.  But she wasn’t smiling. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“What’s your family going to say about me?” she asked, frowning.

“Say about you?” he said.

“I’m Jane’s assistant,” she said. “Won’t they expect you to have a high-powered agent girlfriend, like Natasha? Or someone, um, more successful? I mean, look at your apartment. It’s swanky.” He laughed.

“I work a lot of overtime and have limited personal expenses. I got this place when the market was down. I didn’t grow up somewhere like this,” he said. “I grew up in a fourth floor walk up in Belmont.”

“Huh?” she said.

“Belmont is a part of the Bronx,” he said. “The Italian part. It’s not swank. It’s good, but it’s not swank.”

“Oh,” she said.

“And a walk up is a building with no fucking elevator,” he said. “A shoebox with no elevator.”

“Ewwwww,” she said. “Is that even legal?”

“Grandfathered in because the buildings are historic,” he said, sighing and stroking her hair. “I’m uh, worried about my mother, though. She’s got, uh, a big personality. She’s gonna try to run the show from New York, get involved.”

“Does she have other grandchildren?” Darcy asked.

“Yeah--my sister has a baby--but she’d sort of given up on me ever having kids, settling down,” he said. “My dad passed away a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. He rubbed her back gently.

“My Ma will feel like two full parents, trust me. She’s going to be, uh, enthusiastic,” he said.

“Oh, okay,” Darcy said. “That’s not too bad, is it?”

“She’ll want to throw you a big shower,” he said warningly. “Just to start.”

“Oh, I’m already getting one. We sent a raven to Thor, so Frigga found out and wants to give me a shower on Asgard. Would your mom like to come to that?” she asked.

“She might,” he said. _She would be wild to go,_ he thought. _Practically knock down the doors in whatever palace they had in Asgard to get in._

“Good. Invite her,” Darcy said. “Please.”

“What about your mom?” he asked nervously. He hoped that her mother was older than him. Darcy smiled brightly.

“She works in New Mexico, we talked today,” Darcy said. “She’s totally stoked.”

“Your mom’s excited?” he asked.

“Delighted. She’s making dolphin sounds and buying grandma t-shirts and stuff. She and Frigga are probably going to arm wrestle over grandma nicknames at that shower. You’ll get along fine. She’s very liberal and political and a lot like like Jane,” she told him.

“Yeah?” he said, suppressing something about how he wasn’t sure Jane even liked him.

“Mmm-hmm,” Darcy said. “So much to think about.” She rested her head on his shoulder and he felt oddly domestic. “Do you have any good names?” she asked, not opening her eyes.

“Huh?” he said.

“Family names for the baby,” she said, yawning. “Or not family names. Write them down, if you do. I’m crowdsourcing ideas. We’ve got a Google doc going--”

“We?” Brock said. _What we? Who was we?_

“Me, Jane, my mom….you and your mom could join, too,” Darcy said, opening her eyes. “I’m making a big list.” She got her phone out of her lap and he watched as she tapped the screen. His phone pinged. “There you go, you’ve got co-editing document privileges, baby daddy. Add your mama after you tell her,” she said. Darcy curled up against his shoulder again. She giggled.

“What?” he said.

“One of my dad’s family names is Vance. Can you imagine if we named the baby Vance Rumlow? That sounds like a really cool soul singer. _Vance Rumlow and the Extraordinaires, now appearing at the Rainbow Room,_ ” Darcy said, laughing. She closed her eyes again.

 

A few minutes later, he realized she’d fallen asleep. He picked Darcy up and carried her to his bed. After she was all tucked in, he walked back to the kitchen and looked at his phone. He hit a button.

 

“Ma?” he said, when she answered the call.

  


***

 

Darcy woke up feeling very warm and surprisingly not pukey. She realized Brock was holding her. Not just holding her. He was spooning her. She half rolled over and kissed his chin. “Hey,” she said. His eyes fluttered open.

“Hey,” he said sleepily. His hair was all wild.

“Did you want to fool around?” she said, rolling her eyes down to his briefs. She was feeling achy with need, not just warm. The two feelings together were good. Very good.

“Yeah,” he said, instantly more alert. He leaned down to kiss her, chasing her mouth when she teasingly rolled away from him and scooted a foot or two. “Get back here,” he grumbled. “Little baby mama.”

“You can’t catch me?” she said playfully, trying to crawl on her hands and knees. He caught her around the waist, pulling her up against him and sitting back on his legs. There was no way she could miss his erection now that she was sitting on it.

“I have you now,” he whispered in her ear. She shivered a little in response. “You want it like this?” he asked. “This comfortable?”

“Uh-huh,” she said, turning her head to grin at him over her back as he pried down her underwear.

“Jesus,” he muttered, halting his movement.

“Why’d you stop?” she asked, surprised. That wasn’t like him.

“We’re having a baby,” he said, eyes locked with hers. She loved his eyes. They were amber-brown, flecked with green.  

“Yes,” Darcy said. _I hope the Nugget has your eyes,_ she thought, then wondered where the thought had come from.

“I’m having a baby with you,” he said, his voice weirdly intense. He held her gaze for a second, then raked his eyes down her body. He got her underwear around her knees and started to remove his own.

“Are you freaking out?” she said, concerned.

“No,” he said, easing her back up onto her hands and knees. He rose to position himself. “Ready?” he said, reaching to touch between her legs, stroking gently.

“Uh-huh,” she said. She was throbbing. His first thrust felt incredible and she moaned. “Oh, that’s so good,” she said, dipping her chin down reflexively.

“I know, I know,” he muttered. “Is it better for you, too?” he said, moving in and out with a kind of barely in control slowness. She thought his hands trembled a little.

“Huh?” she said, shifting her weight back towards him encouragingly. That seemed to take him by surprise and he gripped her hips tigher and groaned.

“Without the condoms,” he said. “Oh God, I’m wrecked. You feel so good, baby.”

“Oh, no,” she said.

“Huh?” he said.

“It’s always this good for me,” she said teasingly.

“Goddammit, that’s mean,” he said. He pushed a little harder and her laugh turned into a moan. “Don’t tease me.”

 

They were curled up together, bickering over whether or not they could stay in bed a few more minutes, when they heard a sound from the other room. Keys in the door. Brock sat up and Darcy reached for her glasses. “Brock!” a female voice yelled. “Are you home?”

“Oh fuck,” he said, going pale.

“Who is it?” Darcy said.

“I called my mother last night,” he said grimly. “Ma, hold on--” Before he could finish the sentence, his bedroom door swung open and a woman marched in.

“Let me tell you something,” she began, before she spotted Darcy--who was trying to get the sheet over her boobs--and her eyes narrowed. “This is her? This better be her!” She gave him a frankly murderous glare.

“Yes, Ma,” he said, rubbing his eyes and sighing. “This is Darcy.”

“Hi,” Darcy said, doing a little wave.   



	3. We Keep A Browser Tab Open to Nameberry In the Lab

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos.

Darcy was surprised when Brock’s mother looked stunned. She actually gaped at Darcy. “She’s young and beautiful!” she said.

“Yes, Ma,” he said, covering his face with both hands for a second, then running them through his hair.

“Thank you,” Darcy said, grinning.

“She really looks like a young Angelina Jolie!” she said. “Back when she was kissing her brother and your father swore she was on drugs?”

“Ma--” he began, sighing.

“Awwww, thank you. My mom thinks your son is very handsome, too,” Darcy said politely. Brock looked at her like she’d grown two heads.

“What?” he said.

“She wanted to know what you looked liked, I sent her your Instagram. She’s very thrilled that someone in our family might finally be tan,” Darcy said to him. “We’re all pale,” she explained to Brock’s mother. “I can’t tan. I just turn all pink. It’s terrible. I have to bring sunscreen everywhere. I got sunburned in the snow once.”

“Oh,” she said. “You can get sunburned in the snow?”

“Yes. I’m hoping the baby gets his melanin. Y’all both have such pretty complexions.”  His mother appeared to be as naturally tan as he was, with similar dark hair and dramatic, angular features.

“That’s very sweet of you,” Mrs. Rumlow said. Brock cleared his throat.

“Ma, you need to leave the room,” he said grimly. “Go. To. The. Kitchen.” His voice was firm.

“Yes,” she said, “I’ll go, I’ll go, I had no idea she was staying with you, I thought you’d be alone--” She backed out quickly.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Rumlow!” Darcy called, as the door shut.

“Jesus Christ,” Brock muttered.

“It’s okay, I don’t think she actually saw my boobs,” Darcy said calmly. “And it’s not that big a deal if she does, I mean, she’s got them, too. And she’s seen you naked since the day you were born--”

“Darcy, it’s a big deal,” he said grimly, ignoring her light-hearted joke. “I’m going to go handle this. You don’t need to deal with this yet.” He was frowning.

“It’s okay, really,” Darcy said, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m not upset.” He turned his head abruptly, kissed her back for a moment, then gave her a serious look.

“I’m going to handle it,” he repeated. He slid out of bed, put on his boxers, and left the room, looking thunderous.

“Well, that was something,” Darcy said to the Nugget. “Your Grandma Rumlow thinks I look like _Angelina Jolie.”_ Having the Nugget meant that she always had somebody to listen to her random thoughts. It was nice. Then she got up and put on clothes so she could listen at the door. She could hear Brock talking.

 

“Ma, you cannot just show up here. I gave you that key for emergencies when I was overseas--” he was saying when his mother cut in.

“She’s living with you? You asked her to move in?” his mother asked. She sounded surprised--and almost happy, Darcy thought.

“No, I mean, I don’t know. She’s having bad morning sickness, I didn’t want her to be alone--” Brock said.

“Oh, the poor thing, I can fix that. I’ll make her your aunt’s ginger noodle soup. It worked like a charm when I was pregnant with your sister. I’ll have to get what I need. Where’s the nearest grocery store? She’ll need Italian lemon candies, too. They’re good for nausea. When do you get home from work?” Darcy heard something rustling and jangling. Mom purse, she thought. She was going to have to upgrade to one, too.

“Ma, you cannot just show up here and make soup,” he said.

“Are you getting married? Have you asked?” she said.

“No, look, I don’t know. We haven’t discussed it, I don’t think she _wants_ to get married, Ma,” he said. He was whispering.

“Do not let this girl go, do you hear me? She’s having your baby!”

“I know. She’s the mother of my children, Ma.” He sighed. “But you cannot be like this,” he said sharply.

“What does that mean?” she said. Darcy heard hands on hips and grinned in spite of herself. Mama Rumlow was no pushover.

“You know what it means,” he said, “you’ll terrify her and she’ll flee to Asgard or some shit and I’ll never see them again.” Darcy thought he was probably glaring at this point.

“You’re worried _I’ll_ make her leave?” she said.

“Yes,” he said bluntly. “You walked in on us naked, Ma.”

“You have a lot of nerve, thinking I’ll run a woman off when you’re fifty and you’ve spent your whole--”

“Shhh, she’ll hear you,” he said. “Be quiet.” There was a snippet of heated bickering too low for her to hear, then Brock said something about them being late for work.

“How does she know somebody on Asgard?” his mother said.  Darcy chose that moment to emerge from the bedroom.

“I work for Dr. Jane Foster,” she said. “Are my shoes out here?”

“They’re over here,” Brock said, going to get her boots.

“The scientist who is Thor’s girlfriend?” Mrs. Rumlow said.

“Yes,” Darcy said. She checked her phone. “Jane’s taking me into work, since you’re going to that training thing. She just texted.”

“She doesn’t have to, I will,” Brock said. “It doesn’t matter if I’m late--”

“You’ve been having morning sickness, honey?” his mother said simultaneously.

“Yes, ma’am,” Darcy said, reverting to politeness, as she slid her shoes on. She didn’t know his mother’s first name. She looked at Brock. “Jane’s already here with more saltines. I’m just getting my bag, I’ll let you two catch up. It’s very nice to meet you,” she told his mother. “Has he told you about the baby shower on Asgard? Thor’s mama is throwing me one. You’re invited. And we have a Google doc for baby names. I want everybody to give me suggestions.” She got a card. “Just give me your email address, I’ll add you to everything, Mrs. Rumlow.”

“Oh,” she said. “That’s so sweet of you.” She was beaming at Darcy.

“It’s going to be so hard to decide on a baby name,” Darcy said. “I can’t even decide on what I want at a restaurant! But I want to get suggestions from everyone, so I don’t miss anything good. Family names, favorite names, send me everything.”

“I will,” his mother said. “Please, call me Angela.”

“Angela,” Darcy repeated, smiling. “It’s great to meet you.” She did a little double wave, the stopped herself and hugged the other woman. “Okay, I’m going to go eat saltines in a car now. Car sickness and morning sickness in combination are no bueno.”

 

 

***

Brock followed her out into the hall and stopped her. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Darcy said, laughing. “We’re fine!”

“We’re fine,” he repeated, sighing and looking relieved. “Call me if anything happens today, okay? Can I pick you up tonight?”

“Sure,” Darcy said. He leaned down and half-hugged her, kissing the side of her forehead. “Okay, baby daddy,” she said, after a second. “I’ve really gotta go to work before Jane finds more articles for me to read about leafy greens with folic acid.”

"Okay," he said. 

 

Darcy hurried downstairs and found Jane parked outside Brock’s building in one of the guest spaces. She hopped into the car, grinning. “Hey, guess what happened this morning?”

“You had sex again?” Jane said dryly.

“No, well, yes, we did. But that’s not the big news. The big news is that Brock’s mom showed up this morning after he called her last night with the baby news and he is freaked out,” Darcy said. “She sorta walked in on us naked.”

“Whoa,” Jane said. “How did she seem?”

“Like she’s going to join Frigga and my mama in doting on the Nugget and spoiling them rotten. She’s probably going make me ginger soup for my morning sickness, too. I’m going to add her to the Google doc and the group email,” Darcy said, opening her saltines.

“You’re not scared?” Jane said.

“Jane, you know my family situation. Anything his mom does will pale in comparison to what my dad is gonna say when he finds out I’m having a baby out of wedlock with a guy from New York and I’m really never coming back to marry Gus Aguilar and be a happy little farm wife,” Darcy said.

“You haven’t told him yet?” Jane said.

“No, I think I’ll ask him to come and see me in person,” Darcy said. “I’ll need to keep him and my mom apart, though, so they don’t start arguing about Tractorgate again.” She sighed. “If he refuses to show, I’ll tell him over the phone.”

“I’ll never understand how your dad and your mom met in law school at Chapel Hill and then he ended up getting obsessed with farming,” Jane said.

“Me and you both, Janey,” Darcy said.

“It’s a top tier law school!” Jane said incredulously. The greatest mystery of Darcy’s life was what her parents had been like when they met in Civil Procedure. They’d married thinking they’d both do legal work in Raleigh, but then her father had gotten roped into the family farm in Tuckahoe. The plan had been to run the farm until her Uncle Vance had saved enough to buy out her dad’s half, two or three years max. Darcy had been a baby then. Her parents had opened a small law firm, mostly doing DUIs and traffic accidents. Two years had turned into five, then ten. Darcy’s mom had been bored to tears and itching to get away, but her father had gradually scaled down his legal work for soybeans, tobacco, sweet potatoes, and corn. It caused fights. Major, major fights. She and Darcy’s Grandma Marie had never seen eye-to-eye and Marie lived a hundred feet behind them in the old homeplace, so she was always dropping by and driving Darcy and her mother crazy with religious scolding. Sometimes, Grandma Marie snuck into the house and left tracts about Hell or poured out her mom’s Zimas and her father’s beer, but her dad refused to do anything about it. He’d gradually become fixated on the weather reports. You couldn’t talk to him unless it was about sweet potatoes. Or farm subsidies.

 

Her mom--the only farm wife with a law degree for a hundred miles--felt isolated and like she was wasting her energy and skills, too. She’d gotten involved a local appeal for a guy whose conviction might have been racially motivated, met people with the Freedom Project, and drifted further from Darcy’s father. The final straw for her mom had been when she discovered that Darcy’s father had liquidated several thousand dollars earmarked for Darcy’s college fund to put towards a tractor loan without telling anybody. It had been freshman year, when Darcy had needed $500 worth of books. Her dad was obsessed with his farm equipment; Darcy blamed it on the bells and whistles the companies kept adding to get farmers to buy new things: touchscreens, air conditioning, blah blah blah. He’d promised to return the money “when we get a good price on the tobacco” and paid for her books, of course. But it had rankled her mother that there was a substantial gap between the $500 worth of books his credit card had paid for and the amount that he’d actually borrowed. Not to mention that nobody had gotten a good price on tobacco since about 1985.

 

“Not borrowed, _stolen,_ ” her mother had said bitterly, when she called to announce her new job, move to New Mexico, and the divorce. “Those were joint accounts. He cleaned them out. I’m done, kiddo, I’m done. That was humiliating.” The bank’s manager had been the one to break the uncomfortable news, when her mom came to see if they could transfer funds to Darcy’s student account at Culver. Tractorgate was still a major bone of contention because Darcy’s mother had negotiated a divorce settlement that earmarked a chunk of farm money for Darcy’s education at Culver and mandated that any remaining, unspent funds be given to Darcy as part of an irrevocable trust. Her father was no less a lawyer for his soybeans, however. He shouldn’t take anything out of the trust, technically-speaking. But he’d volunteered to be a trustee when her original trustee retired and she was stuck for trustee options. Which meant she had to have his permission to take out money and he could charge her trustee administrative fees. Yearly fees. She guessed that those yearly fees amounted to his new greenhouse for the tobacco plants, more or less. Maybe that land he’d bought for another sweet potato field. Darcy had given up on ever seeing the money now. It had really bugged her when she and Jane were broke in London and her father seemed to be dodging her calls, so she couldn’t get any money for actual food until he decided to call her back and cough up some cash. _Darcy’s_ cash, her mother would insist. Her mom had wanted to reactivate her North Carolina law license to take him to court, but Darcy had vetoed it. She didn’t have the energy to go through that and be disappointed when the judge--the trust was jurisdictionally in her home county, after all--sided with him. Intentional trust mismanagement was freaking hard to prove, unless he’d done something wildly obvious. And he could say that it had taken him some time to get her money because his current practice was small and that he’d been busy with whatever crop crisis they were having this week.

 

They were polite, but distant now. She knew he couldn’t be depended on to help her if anything happened to the Nugget. Her mother--working for a non-profit and with a fraction of her father’s income--on the other hand, would sell her blood if Darcy needed help, she knew. Not that Darcy had ever asked. She just knew. It wasn’t about the money you had, it was about your motivation. “Let’s see if the damn soybeans take care of him in his old age,” her mother would say, still pissed.

 

***

Brock went back into his apartment. His mother was making a grocery list. “I need to get dressed,” he said. “I’m going to be late. Do you want me to get you a hotel or something?”

“I raise you for eighteen years and you’re sending me to a _hotel_?” Angela said.

“I want to keep the spare bedroom for Darcy,” he said. “In case she wants privacy, Ma.” His mother looked at him. “I’m happy to get you a very nice room,” he said. “Good room, okay? Wherever you want.”

“Are you in love with her?” she asked.

"We’re not that serious, Ma. We were being...casual. Before the baby,” Brock said. “It’s casual. We didn’t plan to have a baby.”

“Do you think I planned to have you at fifteen?” she said. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t love your father.”

“I notice it took you twelve years to have another one, though,” he said dryly, moving towards the bedroom to get dressed. His sister was much younger.

"We were too poor," she insisted. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that wasn’t an answer to my question!” she yelled at his retreating back. “I’m still making that poor girl some soup, even if you’re kicking me out.”

 

She was still muttering things about _poor girl_ and _so stubborn, just like his father_ and _all those tattoos_ when Brock came out of the bedroom, dressed for work. He looked at her.

“I can have the locks changed,” he said, pointing at her in the doorway. “Behave, Ma.” He wagged a finger at her.

“I taught you how to use the toilet!” she yelled back at him, looking through his kitchen cabinets. “Do you have orzo?”

“Probably not,” he said. “She’d like that, though.” Darcy loved pasta. His mother looked over at his tone.

“You’re in love with her, you just won’t admit it,” she told him. “You should propose.”

“I swear to God, if you tell her I’m proposing, I will never speak to you again. No Christmas, no birthdays, no Mother’s Day, nothing.”

“You’ve been threatening me with that since you were twelve. Do you think she’d like Giada as a baby name?” she asked. “For a girl? I think it’s pretty. Like that girl from the cooking show.”

“It sounds like a disease, Ma,” he said. “We’re not naming my daughter something that sounds like a waterborne illness.”

“You never like my name ideas,” she complained. This was true. He didn’t like his own name. But she looked so disappointed that he felt bad.

“I love you, though,” he said, stepping back into the apartment to wrap his arms around his mother’s delicate shoulders. He squeezed her gently. “We just gotta do this carefully, okay? She offered to raise the baby alone when we found out she was pregnant. I don’t want her getting the idea that’s a better plan.”

“So, you’re not in love with her?”

“We haven’t talked about it,” Brock said. “I just want to keep everyone happy, you understand.”

“I understand,” Angela muttered. He kissed the top of her head and departed. She finished her list of soup ingredients.

 

***

“You’re in a bloody mood,” Jack said in a chipper voice. The man next to him frowned. Brock had been sharp and tense since he arrived at the off-site facility for SHIELD.

“My mother is here,” Brock told Jack grimly. “Didn’t even wait a day. A fucking day. She showed up this morning. Walked in on us.” Jack laughed. They were watching the probie agents do field exercises. “Rodriguez, you’re favoring your right!” Brock called.  “What’s wrong with your ankle?”

“Twisted it this weekend, Commander,” Rodriguez said. “Scheduled for a cortisone shot tomorrow.”

“Good,” Brock said. “Don’t get near Cap, too high a risk.” Steve was acting as one of the mock-terrorists during their exercise. Even shield-less and in grey sweats, it was like agents had to go through a wall.

“Send my regards to Miss Angela,” Jack said cheerfully. “Your mum’s a real delight, mate.”

“I know you flirt with her just to grate on my nerves, you don’t even like women,” Brock muttered.

“You think she’d make me some of that red sauce?” Jack mused. He liked Angela Rumlow’s cooking.

“She’s making my babymama soup,” Brock said. “You’ve been bumped, pal.”

“Ahhh,” Jack said.

“What’s that mean?” Brock said.

“She likes her, then,” Jack said. “Your babymama.”

“She doesn’t even know my babymama,” Brock said. They weren’t using Darcy’s name at work.

“Very friendly of your mum, to take to her like that,” Jack said, smirking. “I reckon she’d probably given up on a nice, well-educated girl ever having a baby with the likes of you.”

“Fuck you, asshole,” Brock said.

 

***

“I really miss margaritas,” Darcy said, when she and Jane had bundled up--there was a cold front--to go get Mexican for lunch. They were getting out of the office to discuss baby stuff.

“Already?” Jane said wryly.

“I like a lot of lime in my coconut, you know that,” she said cheerfully. “Woohoo, fresh tortilla chips,” she told the waiter when he brought over a warm basket, “I love you. You’re amazing.”

“Uh-huh,” the waiter said.

“She really likes chips and salsa,” Jane supplied.

“I could marry them,” Darcy said. “Can I get a side of sour cream, too?”

“It’s a dollar upcharge--” he began.

“I can handle that,” Darcy said.

“You’re in a good mood,” Jane said.

“I think the Nugget will enjoy quesadillas,” Darcy said. “Also, chips and salsa is saltines elevated to a delicious saltiness.”

“I hope you don’t regret that later,” Jane said.

“Nah,” Darcy said. “No regerts, Jane.” Her phone dinged. She checked the message. “Ooooh, Angela has sent me a list of potential baby names---”

“What names?” Jane asked curiously. Darcy scrolled through the list and read it out loud.

“His family names include Dominic, Francis, and John for boys. Oh my God, Angelo? I could name my kid the same thing as Adele!  Wouldn’t that be awesome? Other family names--Teresa, Angela, Sofia.”

“Sofia’s good, it’s very popular now,” Jane said. At Darcy’s laughing expression, she looked sheepish. “What? I’m researching. You’re lucky, Italian baby names are so much better than traditional Norse ones. You could end up with Italia or Sofia and I’ll get _Helga.”_

“Awww, Jane. I’m adding in Italia, I like that. For girls, she likes Giada, Francesca, Gia, and, oooh, Rose, I kinda like Rose---”

“Rose Rumlow?” Jane said, scrunching her nose. “Too rhyming and alliterative?”

“Ooof, I was thinking Rose Lewis,” Darcy said. “I wonder if he wants the baby to be called Rumlow? Or could we hyphenate? Lewis is a fine middle name for a boy, but I like more feminine names for a girl.  Gia’s pretty, don’t you think? I like all the a- endings on girls’ names, so pretty.”

“Gia Rumlow,” Jane said. “Nice sound. Gia Rumlow.”

“Or--I like this one--Carina. It means “dear little one.”

“Awwww,” Jane said. “Carina is so much better than Brunhilde. I’m jealous.”

“Can I just gloat at the prospect of a really cute baby Carina or Dominic?” Darcy said. “It’s exciting.”

 

***

Brock met her in the SHIELD parking garage after work. “Hey,” Darcy said, waving at him when she saw his vehicle pull up.

“It’s cold,” he said, leaning towards the passenger window, “get in before you freeze. I turned on the heat.” She opened the door and climbed in.

“Oooh, it is nice in here,” Darcy said, buckling her seatbelt. He’d kept the car warm. “So cozy. I don’t like cold at all.” He leaned over and kissed her lightly. When he made to pull back, Darcy leaned in, enjoying the warmth of his mouth and he responded by deepening the kiss.

“You taste salty,” he said.

“Jane and I had Mexican for lunch,” Darcy said.

“You left the premises?” he said, frowning.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, fiddling with the radio station. He had a device that channeled SHIELD radio frequencies into his speakers, which meant he never listened to actual music, just reports from the field offices. Weird shit was happening in the north of Canada with some, uh, mutant arctic foxes? “How do you tolerate that?” she asked.

“Huh?” he said.

“The radio chatter,” she said. “It would make me nuts.”

“I like to know what’s going on,” he said.

“I’m stealing your radio.” She changed it to her J. Lo playlist. “Ohh, “I’m Glad,” I love this song, do you know she wrote it about _Ben Affleck,_ isn’t that embarrassing now? I wonder if she ever listens to this and goes, _what was I thinking,_ you know?” Darcy said. “It’s still weirdly catchy, though. Alex Rodriguez seems so more in love with her. I remember how Affleck always stood around on the red carpet, looking like he thought he was too good to be there. Like, dude, you co-wrote one good movie with Matt Damon, you’re not Gandhi. Plus, I bet Gandhi wouldn’t feel all morally superior to whatever poor person from _Access Hollywood_ is stuck asking you boring questions. He would just answer them politely and move on.”

“I didn’t realize you went out for lunch, I thought you and Jane ordered in?” he said, apparently ignoring her Deep Thoughts on the subject of Bennifer 1.0.

“Usually we stay in, but this was special. We wanted to talk baby talk without being overheard,” she said.

“Oh,” he said. “Call me next time, so I know you’re off-site.”

“Seriously?” Darcy said.

“I want to know your whereabouts,” he said seriously.

“My whereabouts?” she said, smirking. “Am I on probation already or just the person of interest? Did you want to fit me for an ankle monitor?” she teased.

“Look, it’s not weird to be concerned, don’t make it weird,” he said, sighing.

“Sure,” she said. “We could probably make it a comms device strapped to my ankle, in case you need to remind me to _eat my vegetables_ ,” she snarked, grinning. It was fun to tease him. “And then I can say, _Roger that, two cups of broccoli consumed at zero-eight-hundred, Commander.”_

“Uh-huh,” he said, finally pressing the gas to move the SUV forward. They’d been idling while she buckled in and played with the radio.

“Oh! Oh!” She waved her arms. “Exciting news! I haven’t puked since two, it’s a red letter day. I wonder where that expression comes from…”

“Catholic calendar,” he supplied, turning the steering wheel and driving past a row of SHIELD vehicles. “Saints’ feast days were in red.”

“Like a party?” Darcy said curiously.

“You got food,” he told her.

“I gotcha,” she said. “Look, there’s Steve.” She rolled down her window and waved. “Hey, Steve! Steverini!”

“Hi, Darce,” Steve said genially. Then he frowned. It was so surprising, Darcy looked over her shoulder. Steve never frowned. But there was nothing alarming in sight: no Chitauri, no Nazis, no even a wee bitty robot intent on world domination. Huh. Odd. “Rumlow,” Steve said, still frowning.

“Hey, Steve, would you like to have a red letter day soon?” Darcy asked.

“A red letter day?”

“A little party?” Darcy said cheerfully. She and Jane had talked about a small get-together where they could tell some friends about the bambino. Or bambina. Darcy was sort of leaning bambina this afternoon. But a boy would be cute, too. She went back and forth.

“That would be fine, Darce,” Steve said, still looking a little funny.

 

“I wonder what was bugging Steve?” Darcy mused out loud as they drove away. “I’ve never seen him so serious. Oooh, this is my jam,” she said. She shimmied. “I love LL Cool J.”

“You know, my cousin knows her cousin,” Brock said. “They went to high school together in the Bronx.”

“Shut up!” Darcy said. “That is so cool. I wish I was from a place where famous people are from. Where’s your mom?”

“Making you the famous ginger soup for pregnant ladies,” Brock said with a groan. “If I didn’t bring you back, I’m fairly sure she would go looking for you.”

“She’s cooking that tonight? Wait, let’s stop by my place, I want a nicer outfit if I’m having a special dinner with your mama,” Darcy said.

“Really?” he said, frowning.

“Yes,” Darcy said. “I don’t want her thinking I’m a total schlub. We need to stop and get a gift. Wine, bread, chocolate, whatever.”

“What?” he said.

“It’s a politeness thing. You don’t do that? When someone invites you for dinner, you bring a gift. Jane and I usually bring each other Jose Cuervo or peanut M&Ms in the big bag, because we’re classy ladies. What do you think of Carina or Dominic?”

“Carina or Dominic?” he said.

“As baby names? I shifted topics there, sorry. Your mom’s been sending me her ideas. One of my friends from college is super fancy southern, her daughter has a _hyphen._ I think it’s so cute.”

“A hyphen?”

“Double barrel first names are a southern thing. She’s named Ella-Rose. Hyphen in the middle. We could have an Italia-hyphen-Grace,” she said.

“You want to name our baby Italia-Grace Rumlow?” he said. “So, I’d say, ‘this is Italia-Grace?’ when we met people?”

“Yup,” she said. “Do you hate it?” she asked.

“Umm, no,” he said. “I really don’t.”

 

***

Jane was closing up her lab when Steve knocked. “Hey, Steve!” she said.

“Hi, Jane,” he said, looking glum.

“What’s wrong?” Jane said. Steve never looked this solemn. He was always trying not to grin when Thor talked about Asgard.

“Is Darcy dating Brock Rumlow?” he said quietly. “I just, uh, saw them leave together.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish.

“Well,” Jane said, grinning in spite of herself--the whole baby thing made her unaccountably delighted--”they’ve definitely been spending time together socially.”

“Oh, no,” Steve said.

“What is it?” Jane said, perplexed.

“I, uh, overheard him saying something today.” Steve swallowed. “During field training. I don’t want to upset Darcy, but Jane, he’s gotten someone in the family way.”

“The what?” Jane said.

“Pregnant,” Steve hissed in a low voice, blushing furiously. At his expression, Jane started to laugh. She sank down into her chair and laughed for several minutes, to Steve’s evident horror. “Jane, this is serious,” Steve said, using his Captain America voice. He folded his arms over his chest and was looking down at her. “He’s dating Darcy while he talks about this poor woman being his--his _babymama.”_ Wiping the tears off her face, Jane grinned up at him.

“She gave herself that name,” she said.

“Huh?” Steve said. Jane pulled a purple index card from a stack on her desk, scribbled a line, and then passed it to Steve.

 

 _We’re keeping it quiet, but Darcy_ _is_ _the babymama, Steve!_

_She’s about 6 weeks along, so it’s early still, but she and Rumlow are having a baby._

 

“Oh, oh,” Steve said, his frown transforming into a beaming grin. “That’s wonderful!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confirmation for my headcanon that any character played by Frank Grillo would naturally say "Ma" and not "Mom" in this clip where Talia Shire (Connie Corleone!) plays his mother on Kingdom. It's sad, though--you're forewarned: https://www.indiewire.com/2017/07/rocky-talia-shire-kingdom-season-3-interview-1201856830/
> 
> I'm slightly obsessed with dialects & accents--they're so interesting. I usually make my Darcy be from NC, because I'm from southeastern NC, so it's familiar and I just headcanon her as a North Carolinian who code-switches into a more neutral accent. The best celeb example I can think of with a smoothed-out Carolinas accent, if you're curious, is Josh Lucas, who was raised partially on the coast of SC. You can kinda hear it, especially in his sentence structure and word choices, but he's said in interviews that his mom (from NY like Frank Grillo!) did not want him to have a southern accent: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IbCGyleARys
> 
> For this story, I've given Darcy a fictional hometown in rural, eastern NC where the nearest larger town is probably Greenville, everybody knows everybody, and her dad really wishes she'd come back, settle down, and teach high school or something. I tell you all this because I suspect he's gonna pitch a hissy fit or show his ass in an upcoming chapter (both excellent southern idioms for making a scene).


	4. Dominic, Flora, and Pegeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos! Y'all are awesome.

“Just make yourself at home,” Darcy told Brock when they got to her place. “I’m going to shower. The TV remote is the Vizio one and there’s beer in the fridge I won’t be able to drink until next year.”

“You’re showering?” he said, surprised. He’d thought she would just change.

“I’m scruffy,” she told him. “Take your coat off, stay awhile.” He watched as she carried a sleeve of saltines and a ginger ale into her bedroom. Then he heard the shower turn on. He watched television for fifteen minutes, then gave in and called his mother. She might be worried.

 

“Where are you?” she answered the phone.

“You timing us, Ma?” he said, “I’m at Darcy’s.”

“How is she doing?” his mother asked worriedly.

“Fine, fine, she just wanted to shower and change before dinner, apparently she’s having a good morning sickness day,” he said. “Hasn’t thrown up since two. She’s very happy about it and wants to impress you, so be nice.”

“I’m always nice. I can’t believe you don’t think I’d be nice to Darcy! I’ve got the soup ready and I found those good lemon candies for her. I had to go to The Italian Store in Arlington, so I got you some pappardelle and a can of illy, too.”

“Ma, you know I like Lavazza,” he said.

“I didn’t get it for you, I got it for her, it’s decaf. Does your precious Lavazza make decaf?” Angela asked.

“Oh, I don’t know, I’ll have to look--” he began, but she was still talking.

“I got you wine, you ingrate. I’m going to make us steak, unless that will make her sick?” she asked.

“I don’t know, I’ll ask. Hold on, Ma,” he said. He left his phone on the coffee table and tapped on her bedroom door. “Darcy?”

“Come in,” she said.

“Ma wants to know---” Brock began, then stopped. He’d found her--towel tucked around her hair, but otherwise completely naked--doing her makeup in the warm, steamy bathroom. “You’re naked?” he said incredulously.

“You say that like it’s weird,” she said dryly, doing something around her eyes. “You see me naked all the time. Besides, you can’t get dressed first, you get makeup on your clothes. Or I do. Always the powder.”

“Mmm-hmmm, he said, coming to stand behind her in the bathroom and raking his eyes down her back. He traced his palm down her spine. “You feel like fooling around?” he asked, settling both hands on her bare waist. “We’re alone at the moment.”

“How much time do we have before dinner?” Darcy said. He slid one hand between her thighs.

“Plenty,” he lied. His mother was chomping at the bit to fuss over her. “How do you feel about steak?” he asked. “Would being around that make you sick?” She shook her head at him in the mirror.

“I don’t think so,” she said, putting down the pencil. “Oh that feels good,” she told him.

“You like that?” he said.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said, leaning back against him as he touched her. He scooped her up--she shrieked in surprise and grinned at him--and he carried her to the bed, depositing her gently, before he dropped his pants and crawled on top of her. “My makeup’s not done!” Darcy said.

“I’ll be quick,” he said, kissing her after his first thrust. She groaned, tangling her fingers in his hair.

“I thought you said we had plenty of time,” she said.

“I lied,” he said, smirking and moving more quickly.

“Oh God,” she said. “How does the smell of fully 65% percent of the things make me sick, but you still smell incredible?” she asked, her nose buried in his neck.

“I smell good?” he said quizzically.

“Yeah,” she said, sounding breathless. “You smell great--your natural smell, your sweat.”

“You’re crazy about me,” he told her teasingly. “So crazy you’re having my baby and you think my sweat smells good.”

“Uh-huh,” she said. He snapped his hips a little wildly and she moaned.

“Too much?” he asked, remembering he was supposed to be more careful with her. He slowed down.

“Don’t stop,” she said, shaking her head a little frantically. “Don’t stop.”

“No,” he said. “Come for me, sweetheart. What will it take? This?” he teased, supporting his weight on one arm to shift his other hand down so he could touch her with his thumb. She moaned again, her thighs tightening reflexively where they bracketed his hips. A few moments of frantic movement later, she’d clenched around him and he orgasmed, grunting. When he opened his eyes, she looked a little glazed. He grinned and kissed her. “So much for that shower,” he said teasingly.

“Oh God, your mama’s going to think I just walk around smelling like sex all of the time,” Darcy said, sighing. She pushed the towel--still around her head--off her forehead. “I’ll have to clean myself up.”

“I’m pretty sure she knows we fuck and she’s happy about it,” he said, kissing her slowly.

 

There was a tinny sound from the other room.

 

“Brock?” Darcy said, tilting her head and looking up at him. “Did you not hang up to the phone?”

“Shit,” he muttered, looking over his shoulder. “How loud were we?”

“Ehhh,” Darcy said, mimicking his typical expression and scrunching her nose.

“Fuck,” he murmured.

“You okay?” she said, when he’d come back from hanging up.

“Yeah,” Brock said. He was rubbing his jaw a little. Had he been chewed out by his mother, she wondered. She’d cleaned herself up and was readying to get dressed.

“Your mom?” she said. “Did she hear us?”

“No,” he said. “Everything’s fine.”

“Sure,” she said, worrying her lip as she thumbed through the clothes in her closet. What did you wear to look pretty when you’d been accidentally knocked up? And your baby’s grandma had just overheard you having sexytimes with her son?

 

Darcy was almost ready when the doorbell rang. “Did you give Ma your address?” Brock asked her wryly, rising from where he was sitting on her bed.

“Nope,” Darcy said, emerging from her closet wearing a dark blue wrap dress and tights. It was her favorite, most flattering outfit. “Unless she put GPS on your car?” He laughed.

“You look great,” he told her, looking all amorous again and practically pressing her against the closet door. He smirked at her.

“I need to get the front door,” she said, biting her lip, as the bell pealed again.

“I’ll get it,” Brock said. He went to answer as she put on boots and scrutinized her makeup, outfit, and hair in the mirror. She looked good, she thought. She wasn’t sure if the little belly she was sporting was an early sign of the Nugget or just chips and salsa-related. Sodium made you bloat, right? She wondered what jewelry to wear. When she was young, she and her Grandma Marie had had one or two things in common--a love of old music and shiny things--so Grandma Marie had given her some “fancy” costume pieces, mostly ordered from Avon or the TV. Grandma Marie had a bit of a home shopping problem; one of Darcy’s cousins had grown up referring to the UPS man as the “QVC man” because Grandma Marie was his primary babysitter. Darcy’s favorite costume jewelry gift was a silver necklace from Avon with a blue drop and infinity symbol. Her dad and Grandma Marie had sent it to her as a birthday gift, along with a bottle of Sweet Honesty that she couldn’t wear right now. She put the necklace on. It looked nice.

 

“Sweetheart, you got flowers from someone,” Brock called out.

“Yeah?” Darcy said, going to the bedroom doorway.

“Who’d you tell?” he asked.

“Just Jane and my mom,” Darcy told him. Brock had an armload of pink and blue flowers in his arms and several congratulations balloons floating above his head. “Who are they from?” she said, walking over. He handed her the card and she opened it. It was a fancy 3D card. “These are from Steve?” she said, puzzled.

“Cap?” Brock said. She looked up at him.

“Can he _smell_ when someone is pregnant or something?” she said in wonderment. “Is that why he was looking at us so weird?”

“No idea,” Brock said, glancing up at the balloons and pulling them away from the ceiling fan. “Where’d you want these?”

“Let’s take them to your mom, she’ll like that,” Darcy said. “I’m ready, I just need to get my coat and purse. Do you think Steve heard the baby?”

“Heard the baby?” He frowned.

“The heartbeat,” Darcy amended. “Like, he was frowning because he heard three heartbeats in the car?”

“He better not be hearing our baby before we do,” Brock said stubbornly. His expression was almost petulant. It made Darcy laugh. “Don’t laugh. I’m serious. Get a scarf and gloves, too. It’s cold out there,” he ordered.

“Yes, Commander,” Darcy said. He smirked.

“Say that to me in bed, I’ll buy you chocolate,” Brock teased. She filed it away for future reference; she loved chocolate.

 

***

 

Angela was very impressed by the bouquet and balloons from Steve. “How sweet of _Captain America,”_ she cooed, as Darcy shed all the layers that Brock had made her wear.

“We don’t know how he knows!” Darcy said, laughing as Brock helped her out of her jacket.

“Darcy, honey, you look beautiful. So beautiful.” Angela glanced at Brock skeptically. “We’ll discuss _certain things_ later,” she told him with narrowed eyes. “I’ve got dinner all ready, sit down, honey. I bought special things for you. Do you want some sparkling water? You want a San Pellegrino with fruit?”

“Those are all sugar,” Brock objected.

“You be quiet, she can’t have wine, let her have one,” Angela said.

“I love those,” Darcy said. “They’re the best.” London had given her a bit of a habit for fancy European sodas—she liked the Limonata and France’s bubbly Orangina. “Oooh, they have pomegranate now?” she said, spotting a purple can.

“Pomegranate it is!” Angela said joyfully. “Try this, honey.” She slid a can across the top of Brock’s kitchen island. “I’ll get you ice.”

“Thank you. I love Oprah and Gayle’s pomegranate martini,” Darcy said.

“With the Pom Wonderful,” Angela said, nodding. “Oprah knows.”

“I cannot believe you’re talking about Oprah,” Brock grumbled. “Let me help you, Ma.” They were eating at his kitchen island, so he helped move things--the salt and pepper, some bread, a glass of ice for Darcy. He waved her back when Darcy tried to stand up and help.

“This looks yummy,” Darcy said, as Angela spooned her out some of the soup.

“I cook the chicken, make a soffritto, then add ginger and tumeric and orzo to the broth. It’s good for your immune system, honey,” Angela said. “I’ve got plenty for you.”

“Thank you,” Darcy said. She caught Brock giving his mother a fond look behind her back. He’d never admit it, Darcy thought. “This is delicious,” she told Angela.

 

They had a great dinner. Angela told embarrassing stories about Brock’s crushes on pretty dark-haired girls when he was little, giving him several significant glances. “Ma,” he said finally, “I don’t even remember a Shelley Castellano. You’re making that up.”

“You were five, we caught you kissing her behind the sofa,” Angela said.

“Sneaky, sneaky,” Darcy said, waving her spoon at him. “Always sweet-talking the girls without anybody knowing.” Darcy was making sure to clean her bowl. It was very good soup. Plus, she wanted Angela to know she liked it. “Brock, I need some bread to sop,” she said, making a baby-grabby fingers at the bread. He handed her a piece.

“Sop?” Angela said, looking befuddled.

“That’s when you use your bread to get all the good sauce, broth, or melted butter. You sop it up,” Darcy explained. “It’s sorta like a cross between mop and soak.”

“Oh,” Angela said.

“Weird southern expression,” Brock told his mother. “She’s got all kinds of them, Ma. Tell her about the dog one.”

“Which dog one?” Darcy said.

“The me a dog?” he said. “Whatever the hell it is.” He smirked at her.

“It’s not weird to me!” Darcy said, laughing. “I saw an article about a southern phrase online and said something about it seeming perfectly normal to me, so now he’s always making fun of it.”

“Tell her the actual thing,” Brock said. “Listen to this, Ma.”

“He acts like it’s so weird, but we say ‘here’s you a _something’_ if you’re searching for a particular item.  If you say, ‘I need me a spoon,” then I’d say, ‘here’s you a spoon, Angela,’ and hand you one or point to it. If you needed a card with a dog on it, I’d say, ‘here’s you a dog’ if we were looking at different ones in Target. It’s actually a helpful phrase.”

“Oh, it’s a _helpful_ phrase,” Brock said sarcastically.

“He’s lucky he’s so pretty,” she said to Angela, pronouncing it the southern way. _Purdy._ “Otherwise, I’d be smacking him with this spoon.” She waved it at him menacingly and he chuckled. “I need me a napkin,” she told him, so he passed her one.

“Do the fixing one,” he said.

“Fixing?” Angela said.

“If you’re about to do something but you haven’t done it yet, you say, ‘I’m fixing to make dinner or I’m fixing to go to the store. It means you’re preparing. I’m fixin’ to have another pomegranate bubbly drink,” she said, “because I love me some bubbles.”

“It’s all sugar,” Brock said.

“Funsucker,” Darcy sassed him. She made to get up, but he stopped her.

“I’ll get it,” he said.

“Do I have to sit for the whole pregnancy?” she joked.

“How are things?” Angela asked. “Nothing worrisome?”

“Nope, but we haven’t had the first ultrasound or anything like that. I’m taking a bunch of pregnant lady vitamins and eating my leafy greens--”

“Sure you are,” Brock said.

“I had a salad at lunch!” Darcy insisted. “Diet police. He denies it, but I know he looks in my fridge and scorns my Trader Joe’s ravioli.”

“I’m fixin’ to get you more protein,” he joked.

“Phffft,” Darcy said. “I prefer Fruit Loops. Doesn’t cereal milk have protein?” He sighed heavily.

“You see what I’m up against here, Ma?” Brock said. “Woman doesn’t even like veal.”

“It’s a baby cow, which is the cutest kind of a cow, how can you even?” Darcy said, shifting into horrified Valley girl.

“How about better ravioli?” Angela said.

“Yes, that is a definite yes,” Darcy said. “I love pasta. And cheese.”

“You need to try some of the cheese I bought today,” Angela said.

“What’d you get?” Brock said.

“Ragusa, pecorino siciliano with those pistachios you like,”--she meant Brock--“and some fresh mozzarella,” his mother said.

“That all sounds good,” Darcy said.

“You don’t even know what those are!” Brock said, laughing.

“Cheese has never done me wrong,” Darcy said loyally. “Besides, I know mozzarella. I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck,” she muttered.

“You sound like you did,” he teased.

“Be nice,” he mother scolded, waving one painted nail at him.

“I’m always nice,” he said, cupping Darcy’s chin so he could kiss her cheek loudly. Darcy blushed. He was clearly putting a show of couple-ness for his mother.

 

After dinner, Darcy texted Steve a thank you and put her mother on speaker phone. Angela wanted to meet Elizabeth. “Helllllooooo, I’m so stoked!” Darcy’s mom said when she answered. “Please call me Liz! Tell me what’s happening?”

“She got the most beautiful flowers from that nice _Captain America,”_ Angela said, sounding all impressed again.

“Isn’t he fantastic?” Elizabeth said. “The last time I visited Darcy, we ran into him and I grinned for ten minutes straight like an idiot. He’s young enough to be my son!”

“Not technically,” Brock said in a low voice. Darcy grinned at his back, raking her eyes down his gorgeous forearms. There was some lingering weirdness between he and Steve from the time that Brock had pretended to be HYDRA and failed to apprehend Cap and Nat at a mall? It was all very mysterious. Why had they been at an Apple store, Darcy had frequently wondered. No one had explained. No one had even told her that Brock had been badly hurt, which seemed especially unfair.

“He’s so sweet,” Angela gushed.

“We don’t know how Steve knows,” Darcy said. “I think he can hear babies.” From the kitchen--he was making a cheese plate--Brock snorted.

“My child is wildly jealous of _Captain America_ ,” Angela said.

“I am not,” Brock said. “Hi, Liz.” Darcy noticed that Brock was using his polite voice.

“Hi, it’s so fabulous to hear your voice, because I have been staring at your Instagram,” Elizabeth said. “Everyone at work has, too. Kevin”--he was her mom’s coworker--”has been threatening to block the page, so we’ll work.”

“Mom!” Darcy said, covering her face. Brock laughed.

“I didn’t know you could be embarrassed,” he said to Darcy.

“Oh, I’ve been embarrassing her since Clinton was president, I’ll tell you how,” Darcy’s mother said. “It’s very simple, you just tell people about the time she came out of the bathroom at a very nice steakhouse with toilet paper tucked into her jeans--”

“Mama, no,” Darcy said, sighing. “I give up,” she said to Angela. “She’s the one who raised me to shroud the seat.” Angela laughed.

“They have those little toilet seat covers now, sweetie! You might have inspired someone. Angela, your son is very cute. The baby is going to be adorable,” Elizabeth said, as if it just occurred to her.

“Thank you, honey,” Angela said.

“I love the name Giada, by the way,” Elizabeth said. “Giada’s adorable.”

“Brock hates it,” Angela said. “He thinks it sounds like a disease!”

“You didn’t tell me that!” Darcy said.

“You’re pregnant,” Brock said.

“What does that mean?” Darcy said.

“I’m not hurting your feelings,” he said, bringing over the cheese plate. “Try this bacon fig stuff.”

“Awwww,” Elizabeth said.

“I see how it is!” Angela said. But she looked oddly delighted, Darcy thought.

“Oh my God, where has this been all my life?” Darcy asked Brock. The bacon-fig jam was incredible on cheese.

“What about Elisabetta or Elisabella?” Angela suggested.

“Awwwwww,” Darcy and Elizabeth said in unison. They debated various baby names. Carina was a high favorite and even Brock admitted he liked it. He insisted that he did like “Italia-Grace,” too, when Darcy accused him of misleading her on the subject of hyphenated names. Darcy and the moms liked Dominic Edward--the first for Brock’s family, the second for hers--but Brock thought Dominic sounded “too Jersey Shore.”

“What was his father’s name?” Darcy asked in a low voice, when Brock stepped away to get her more jam.

“Johnny,” Angela supplied.

“Johnny Rumlow,” Elizabeth said, sounding it out over the phone.

“Well, that’s it,” Darcy said, “we’re having a Johnny Rumlow, it sounds like a 1950s movie star, like Marlon Brando.” Angela laughed for five minutes.

“Oh, honey, he would have loved you!” she said.

“What about your father?” Brock said.

“Beau?” Elizabeth said.

“Beau Rumlow sounds too alliterative,” Darcy said. “Besides, Edward is his middle name, too. That should mollify him a little.”

“You want to make your father have an aneurysm, sweetie, you name that child the most Italian name you can think of--” Elizabeth began, before Brock’s mother started to laugh and cut in.

“Johnny Carmine Vincent Dominic Angelo Francis Rumlow,” Angela said, grinning. Darcy wrote it all down, smiling.

“I don’t want to antagonize her father, Ma,” Brock said. He said the last word in a bleat, sounding oddly like a sheep, as he returned to Darcy’s side.

“Please, your very existence will grate on her father’s nerves, name your child what you want,” Elizabeth said.

“I resent the way that you always say _your father_ instead of my ex---I didn’t pick him!” Darcy said, laughing. “I do like Angelo, though.”

“Is there a reason you like the guido names?” Brock said, groaning.

“Hey, Adele likes it too!” Darcy said. “Besides, it’s very close to your wonderful mother’s name, you bad son.” She pretended to swat at him.

“You tell him, honey,” Angela said. Darcy’s phone dinged. She looked down.

“Oh, it’s Steve! He has ideas for baby names! He wants us to think about Brigid and Maureen,” Darcy said. “Or Declan.”

“No,” Brock said clearly. “This”--he patted Darcy’s belly gently--”is no Irish child.”

“Well, actually,” Darcy said, pointing to herself, “Irish Lewis here, baby daddy.”

“Oh,” Brock said. “Really?”

“I didn’t get this pale by accident,” Darcy said.

“She’s got redheaded cousins!” Elizabeth said. “With freckles!”

“Yep,” Darcy said, nodding. “Both of ‘em.”

“Remember that time you got sunburned at Culver and the PA at student health asked if you were Irish?” Elizabeth said.

“She was very rude about it,” Darcy told Angela. “I felt judged. Aw, Steve used to call Peggy by the nickname Pegeen, how cute is that?”

“Pegeen?” Brock said, looking horrified.

“It’s cute!” Darcy insisted. “He likes Violet and Daisy, too.”

“He’s such a nice boy,” Angela said.

“He’s ninety goddamn years old,” Brock grumbled, refilling his own wine glass. “Pegeen,” he muttered, sounding grumpy. “What about some names from your family?” he said to Darcy. She thought his tone was a little desperate.

“What like, Flora?” Darcy said.

“Eula!” her mother called over the phone. “She has a great aunt Eula Mae and a great aunt Flora.”

“Uncle Vance,” Darcy said.

“Cousin Zeb!” her mother said, laughing.

“Zeb?” Brock said.

“They’re both named for Zebulon Vance, he was a governor. Mama, why are they both named for a Civil War-era governor?” Darcy wondered.

“I find it best not to ask those sorts of questions,” Elizabeth said. “My family at least gives you Catherine, James, and Elizabeth.”

“All wonderful,” Brock said firmly. “Good, normal names.”

“But people will think we're stuffy. I still like Carina. I want my child to feel _special,”_ Darcy insisted. “My name is special, Brock’s name is special.” He groaned. “What? It is! But people can spell it and pronounce it, too,” Darcy said. “That’s important.”

“You hated your name when you were a teenager!” Elizabeth said.

“They always do,” Angela said.

“Phffft, me wanting to be called Veronique was just my French class phase, Mom,” Darcy said. “But I’m not doing a creative spelling, because that means the baby will have to spell their names everywhere, like poor cousin Bryannah.”

“Briana?” Brock said.

“B-r-y-a-n-n-a-h,” Darcy spelled out loud. “She wishes she had the simpler, more conventional spelling.”

“Veronique is pretty,” Angela said. “You should add that to the Google doc.”

“Veronique?” Brock said.

“Or Veronica. Veronica Rumlow,” Darcy said.

“Sounds like a film noir character,” Elizabeth said. “Played by Lauren Bacall.”

“What about Bacall?” Darcy said. “Surname as first name? Or a famous artist, like Matisse?”

“What?” Brock said.

“Is this nuts?” Darcy said, wrapping her arms around him a few minutes later. Their mothers were laughing on the phone, talking about Steve and baby names. He gone to get her some grapes. It was very sweet. She wanted to hug him.

“Maybe a little,” he said. He'd rubbed his forehead. “I want our Nuggets to have normal names.”

“You said Nugget!” Darcy said, laughing.

“It’s growing on me,” he said, smirking.

 

 

“Well, I should find a hotel,” Angela announced, once they’d ended the phone call with Elizabeth.

“No, no,” Darcy said. “Stay in the spare room, I’ll move my stuff out.” Angela looked too tired to drag herself to a hotel. “I’ll get them now.” She’d stashed her extra clothes in Brock’s extra bedroom.

“I’ll get them,” Brock said, “move them into my room.” Darcy was slightly surprised; she’d assumed he might want to take her home. She said goodnight to Angela with a hug and followed him into his bedroom.

“Do you want me to go home, let you two spend time together?” Darcy offered. He looked incredulous.

“No,” he said. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“No?” Darcy asked.

“Will you stay with me while she’s here?” he asked suddenly. “She’d like that,” he said.

“Sure,” Darcy said, perplexed. “As long as I’m not intruding.” He looked at her.

“Put your little ducky pajamas on,” he said, “and get in the bed.” He grinned. “I’m going to make sure Ma has everything she needs and then we’ll talk about baby names together. Alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of these southern names--with the exception of Eula--are genuine, real-life PumpkinDoodles' family names. Yes, I have multiple relatives named for Zebulon B. Vance (or one named for Vance and the others named for him?). I don't know why and I'm almost afraid to ask.
> 
> My headcanon casting for this story: someone like Jamie Lee Curtis as Elizabeth and maybe Lorraine Bracco as Angela?


	5. If Wishes Were Fishes, The Sky Would Be Scales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your lovely, funny comments.

Angela stayed for more than a week. One night, they had Jack and his boyfriend Gavin over for dinner, which was very nice. They brought her a plush Australian shark for the baby and Jack flirted shamelessly with Angela, to Darcy’s joy and Brock’s discomfort. Another night, they had dinner with an ecstatic Steve. In between, Angela went shopping. Darcy gathered that she was trying to convince Brock that the guest bedroom would make an excellent nursery. Several boxes that looked like they were from an upscale baby store migrated into the guest room. Angela also dropped a lot of hints about them getting married and eventually claimed she wanted to go to “that fancy mall” to shop one evening.

“They have a Gucci store,” she told Darcy. “And a gelato place at CityCenterDC.”

“Because you don’t have gelato or Gucci in _New York,”_ Brock said.  

Darcy left the room to call Jane and Thor--recently returned from Asgard--to meet them, just because Brock and Angela bickered less when there was a third party to flirt with Angela. She’d figured this out when Steve took the three of them to dinner. He had charmed Brock’s mother. It hadn’t been entirely bad: he’d seemed to be doing things to give Darcy and Brock space to themselves, very sweetly. Still, Darcy thought she overheard the two of them whispering about church weddings. She didn’t bring it up with Brock, though. She was having too good a time and afraid it would make him go weird on her. Every night, they cuddled--usually after trying to fool around quietly, which was freaking difficult--and then talked baby names in bed. It felt very cozy. Before, they hadn’t spent this many days together in a row. In the mornings, he drove her to work and then picked her up in the afternoons. Darcy was half-waiting for him to get tired of having her around, but she suspected he was actually using her as a kind of escape hatch from socializing with his mother after work or something:

 

_“Ma, Darcy is tired, we should head back home,” he’d said when Angela and Darcy strolled around one of the DC art museums and talked about going to classical music concerts for the baby._

_Sometimes, he’d beg off with food, too:  “She needs to get off her feet, Ma. Let’s stop and have something to eat and then I’ll take Darcy home.”_

_“Come on, you gotta go to bed, zuccherina,” he’d insist, if they stayed up late talking to Darcy’s mom on speakerphone and laughing. Sometimes he actually scooped her up and carried her to bed. Darcy thought Angela might prompt that particular move on purpose, it made her look so delighted._

 

So, of course, Angela and Brock were bickering about CityCenter when Darcy returned to the living room. “Ma, she’s got work in the morning. I don’t want her to fall because she’s tired,” Brock said.

“You just want to keep her all to yourself, like a prisoner in this apartment,” Angela argued.

“He’s right about the falling though,” Darcy said. She’d been so tired she almost tripped over her rolling chair’s leg at work that morning. She wouldn’t mind staying in with Brock. It was nice, really. The last time they’d stayed in, he’d made her pappardelle with mushrooms and let her watch _48 Hours_ reruns without complaint. Angela had teased them about being “boring old people” and met Jack and Gavin at some fancy restaurant.

“See?” Brock said. “She needs rest. It’s cold out there, Ma.”

“She needs to enjoy this part of having the baby, before it gets harder for her to get around,” Angela said. “It’s not going to get easier when she’s farther along.”

“Or I get hemorrhoids,” Darcy said glumly. “Jane read me an article today,” she told him, making a face.

“See?” Angela said, raising an eyebrow at Brock.

“Thor and Jane are already meeting us,” Darcy said.

“Fine, but she’s wearing a coat and a scarf,” Brock said. “Gloves, too.”

 

That was how Darcy ended up staring at a pathway strung with gorgeous lights in a very upscale shopping plaza, bundled up like she was scaling Everest. It was called Palmer Alley. People were posing for Instagram photos. “Isn’t it beautiful?” Angela said. “They decorate this alley for all the seasons--remember that summer when your father and I came to visit and it was a million degrees and they had little beach balls?”

“Yes,” Brock said.  “He asked why I had to move to a fucking swamp,” he told Darcy wryly, putting an arm around her. “There they are,” he said, gesturing. He meant Jane and Thor.

“Oh,” Angela said. “He’s very tall. And blond.”

“Also muscly,” Darcy said.

“What was that?” Brock said, more alertly.

“You are extremely jelly,” Darcy teased. He scoffed.

“And you’re so petite!” Angela said to Jane, as soon as she was a few feet away.

“Aye, she is,” Thor said, grinning. He gave Angela a hug that left her looking as dazzled as she had when Steve called her “ma’am” and kissed her on the cheek.

Darcy did introductions, but somehow, the three of them outpaced her and Brock. “I think we lost them at Louis Vuitton,” she said to him, as they strolled more slowly.

“That’s fine,” he said. “You want something from the gelato place? I could get you gelato and hot coffee? Balance out the cold?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. They went in. It was a very fancy gelato place. Brock got her a decaf espresso and a big bowl of pillow-soft dark chocolate. “I think I love gelato,” Darcy told him, swooning a little as she ate some.

“Sure you do, _zuccherina_ ,” Brock said.

“Are you calling me zucchini or something?” Darcy said.

“No,” he said, laughing. “It means little sugar.”

“Oooooh,” Darcy said. “That’s cute. Keep doing that. How come your Italian sounds different from your mom’s?”

“Oh, that’s a fun story. Ma doesn’t actually speak Italian Italian, she speaks Sicilian. That’s where both sets of my great-grandparents were from, Sicily. Some people call it a dialect, but it’s actually older than official, current Italian, which comes from Tuscany. Some Sicilian words are closer to Latin. Or they have influences from all the Sicilian cultures--Norman, Greek, Arab, everything. The stereotype is that Sicilian’s a rough dialect, though, peasant talk, so when I was in school and signed up to take Italian, my teachers forced me to learn the ‘proper’ forms,” he said, doing air quotes. “I had to unlearn my Sicilian. She stays longer than a week, I’ll start to slip.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “Rumlow is Sicilian?” He grinned.

“It was originally Romano. My father’s family was from Palermo. They were trying to blend in at Ellis Island when they changed it,” he said, grinning. “Or maybe hide from somebody. Nobody quite knows. But Romano is a very common surname in Sicily. Ma’s maiden name was Messina, that’s pretty common, too.”

“You’ve got all the good names,” she said enviously. “I just want one for the baby. Just one!” He laughed.

“I’m firmly with you on Carina,” he said, “let’s keep talking about a boy’s name.”

“Okey-dokey,” Darcy said. “I still vote for Dominic.”

“Ugh,” Brock said.

“We could call him Nick?” Darcy offered, trying to sound placating.

“So, people will think my son’s named for Fury?” Brock said archly.

“Whoops,” Darcy said, grinning. He smiled back at her. “I can’t believe you’re not having any!” she told him, studying her gelato.

“It’s fine,” he said.

“It is not fine that you’re not enjoying yourself,” Darcy told him. Seized by a sudden impulse, she slid her gelato across the table and then stepped over to sit in his lap.

“What are you doing?” he said.

“Feeding you gelato,” she said. “Nobody gets away from a preggers lady!” He laughed when she did a mock-evil cackle. “It’s my evil power.”

“Fine, just a little,” he said, putting his hands around her hips as she fed him.

“I win, I win,” Darcy said gleefully. “See? You _like_ it. Also, this is excellent baby-feeding practice. Should I pretend the spoon is an airplane? Bzzzzzzzzzz.” She twirled it.

“I just don’t want to end up with a big belly like Uncle Sal,” he complained, as she she tried feed him another spoonful.

“Okay, this one’s mine.” She ate some gelato. “Sal?” Darcy asked.

“Salvatore,” Brock said, sighing.

“Why is that not on my list?” Darcy said. “You have to eat another spoonful now.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Hey, is Sicily a too out-there option? As a geographic place name, like Florence or Georgia?” Darcy asked.

“Sicily?” he said. “Hmmm. I don’t know, I’ve never thought about it.”

“Could you get me a map of Sicilian place names?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll send you one.”

 

One the way back to meet the other three, Brock sighed. “What?” Darcy said.

“I can’t decide on a name for my kid. This should be an easy one. How are we going to do schools or doctors?” he said.

“The district will tell us for the first one and our insurance will give us a list for the second. Baby names are about the only thing we have unfettered control over and unlimited options,” she said teasingly. Brock looked ready to speak, but then he went a little white.

“Ma!” he yelled. “Step away from that jewelry store! She’s going to start badgering us….” he muttered. Angela was standing in a doorway. She waved them over.

“Huh?” Darcy said to Brock. He shook his head.

“I knew she was here for this,” he said. “Jewelry stores!” The two of them went over to Angela and followed her inside.

“Come look at this one, honey!” she said, motioning towards a sparkling tray.

“Ma,” Brock said, as they walked towards her. A salesperson was smiling brightly.

“She’s pregnant!” Angela said. Brock looked frustrated and embarrassed.

“Give us a minute?” Darcy said, realizing those trays were filled with engagement rings..

“Okay, honey, but you make him get you a good one,” Angela said, moving down the line of glass counters with the salesperson. Brock sighed.

“It’s okay, I’m not going to make you buy a ring,” Darcy told him in a whisper, laughing. “Ever, I promise,” she said. He looked at her.

“What’s that mean?” he said.

“I want to get married because I want to get married, not because I’m pregnant,” she said.

“Oh,” he said. “You saying you don’t want to marry me?”

“Do you want to get married?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Well, uh,” he said, scratching his jaw. “I, uh--”

“If you don’t really want to do it, we shouldn’t,” Darcy said.

“That’s not--I don’t mean to hurt you,” Brock began, sounding stressed.

“I don’t feel hurt,” Darcy said, trying not to let any emotion show. Of course, she _wished_ he’d sweep her off her feet, make a big romantic declaration, say he wanted her. Anybody would want that. _If wishes were fishes, the sky would be scales,_ someone had said to her once. Probably Grandma Marie. She liked telling Darcy that “only mean people were scared” when she’d been small and afraid of the dark, so it sounded very Grandma Marie-ish to dismiss wishes.

“You don’t?” he said.

“No,” she said. “It would be nice to--nevermind,” she said, moving to walk towards Angela. Brock grabbed her elbow.

“What?” he said. “Tell me.” His expression was intense. She swallowed. Looked over his shoulder towards the windows and all the people walking by. “Darcy, tell me,” he said.

“I think it’s only natural--only human--to want to be chosen by somebody,” she said. “To want to feel, um, especially significant to someone else? That’s why people are so invested in getting married. They want to feel like they really matter to somebody.” She flicked her eyes up at him, trying to gauge his reaction. His expression was unreadable.

“You matter to me,” he said quietly.

“I read a book on the cultural history of marriage once,” Darcy joked, trying to keep things light. “After Ian and I broke up and I wondered why I cared. About marriage. The woman who wrote it said the chosen thing and I thought it was really profound at the time, but, of course, she’s divorced now. Ironic, right?”

“Darcy,” he said.

“What’s going on?”Angela said, sounding worried.

“Ma,” Brock said.

“Everything’s fine,” Darcy said brightly. “I just can’t see myself in any of these. Too fancy-schmancy. Where’s Jane and the Thor-bear?” She looked around. “There they are, just outside,” Darcy said, making a break for the door with Brock at her heels. She caught Angela’s dejected expression behind her in the glass door.

 

***

 

“Ma,” Brock said, “I’m fucking pissed at you right now.”  He felt intense frustration and also fear---why did his mother have to push? They had been having such a great night. She’d been enjoying her gelato and her decaf espresso and smiling as she sat in his lap, he thought miserably. The mood had shifted after that damn jewelry store. The whole evening had gone FUBAR on him. He could literally feel Darcy shrinking.

“I messed up,” Angela admitted. “I’m sorry. Is she mad at me?”

“I don’t know, Ma, I don’t know,” Brock said. Darcy had been distracted at dinner, quiet in the car on the way home, and then gone off to have a bath by herself. Now Brock and Angela were staring at each other in the kitchen. Brock rubbed his hands through his hair. “What should I do?” he asked his mother.

“Talk to her?” Angela said. “Or buy her something?”

“Me _buying her something_ got us into this,” he said bitterly.

 

He found Darcy already in bed. He crawled in next to her in the dark. “We should talk about things, _zuccherina,_ ” Brock said to her. He ran a thumb over her arm. She didn’t reply. Was she asleep? He peered at her. Darcy’s eyes were closed. “Fuck,” he muttered.

 

***

 

The next day, Angela had to go back to New York. They drove her to the airport in the morning before work. “I’m still invited to the shower on Asgard, right?” she asked. “Jane hasn’t disinvited me, has she?”

“Of course you’re still invited!” Darcy said. That was scheduled for early in her second trimester, because of the travel involved.

“Try groping Thor there,” Brock muttered under his breath. Angela had pinched the heir-apparent of Asgard.

“Why not? I did!” Darcy told Angela. She laughed and hugged Darcy.

“Take care, Ma,” Brock said, hugging her.

“Get married,” she said simply.

“Ma,” he said.

“What? I’m too old to lie,” she said. “You should get married. You like each other better than a lot of married people I know.” Darcy thought Brock looked horrified, so she rushed to cover for him.

“Maybe that’s our secret to happiness, not being married,” she said.

“Uh-huh,” Angela said, raising an eyebrow. Brock just stood there, blinking. Angela hugged her again. “I’m very excited about my grandchild,” she told Darcy.

“I’m glad,” Darcy said, genuinely happy.

 

When they left the airport, she was very careful not to bring up marriage. Instead, she chatted about baby names. “How do you feel about Dmitri?” she asked.

“Dmitri?” he said.

“As a baby name?” she said. “John Dmitri Rumlow has a nice ring.”

“It’s not too bad, but let’s keep looking. I feel like we can do better,” he said, squeezing her hand.

“But you don’t like Gianni?” she said.

“Your father would love that,” Brock said.

“I don’t care what he thinks, I care what _you_ think,” Darcy said.

“I don’t mind Gianni,” he said quietly. He gave her a look she couldn’t decipher before he dropped her off at work.

 

 

***

“What happened last night?” Jane asked Darcy in a whisper when she came into the lab that morning. “At the jewelry store? Thor and I saw you two looking tense and then you were all weird at dinner.”

“Angela’s pressuring him to propose, he doesn’t want to,” Darcy explained, sorting her highlighters. How did they get so jumbled at night? Did the highlighters have a little dance? She really needed full caffeine for these issues.

“How do you feel about that?” Jane asked carefully.

“Like I don’t want someone to marry me if they don’t really want to,” Darcy said sharply. Then she sighed. “Sorry, Jane, I didn’t mean that to sound so ugly, I just--God, I don’t know how to even say it!” Darcy said. “It feels stupid and retrograde and silly to say I just want him to _want_ to be with me.” Jane smiled sympathetically.

“I have wanted Thor to propose to me for years,” Jane said quietly. “But if you tell anyone, I’ll deny it and threaten to portal you to Jotunheim. It would totally ruin my feminist street cred.” Darcy grinned.

“Okay, your secret’s safe, Janey Bug. But what do I do?” Darcy said.

“I don’t know. It must be more difficult if you’re pregnant. The way I see it, you can either ask him directly to propose and risk that he’ll say no, or just keep the status quo and try not to let it get to you,” Jane said.

“Hmmmmmmm,” Darcy said. “I think I have to guard the status quo with a baby involved, Jane. I don’t want to alienate him from his child---oh, look, my OB-GYN wants me to schedule my ten week ultrasound,” she read aloud from her emails.

“First baby photos?” Jane said, delighted. She squealed happily and clapped.

“Shhhhh,” Darcy said. “Brock and talked about it, we’ll go public at twelve weeks, maybe, because your risk of losing the baby goes down.” There was a _tap-tap-tap_ behind them. Darcy turned her head. Steve was standing on the other side of the glass door. He stuck his head in.

“Did somebody say baby pictures?” he said, beaming.

“Not yet!” Darcy said. “Shhhhhh!”

 

Steve came and plopped down in the lab. “What are your leading candidates, doll?” He meant names. He’d been adding more to her list: Patrick, Dolores, and Clara.

“Carina for a girl,” Darcy said.

“I like that one,” Steve said. “Real pretty.”

“Boy names remain a source of controversy. I like Dominic or Johnny--his father’s name--but he’s resistant,” Darcy said. “He thinks they’re guido or something?”

“What is guido?” Jane said, puzzled.

“I don’t know!” Darcy said, laughing. “I assume it’s kinda like the Bronx equivalent of saying someone from the south is a redneck? Do you know?” she asked Steve.

“Huh,” Steve said. “After my time, doll.” He looked thoughtful. “Let’s call Tony,” he announced, picking up a phone. He dialed and then hit speaker. They were hit with a wave of classic rock before the volume descended.

“Yelllo,” Tony said. “You’ve got five seconds to be awesome, or I’m hanging up.”

“Tony, this is Steve--”

“Capiscle!” Tony said.

“Hey, Tony,” Jane and Darcy said.

“Tiny science babes!” Tony said. “Is everyone hanging out without me?”

“Yes,” Jane said.

“No,” Darcy said simultaneously. Steve chuckled.

“We have a New York culture question,” Steve said.

“Okay, hit me,” Tony said. Darcy could hear machinery whirring in the background.

“What is guido?” Steve said doubtfully. Tony started to laugh.

“Is it one of those words it’s rude to say out loud?” Darcy asked curiously.

“Why do you need to know that?” Tony asked. The three of them looked at one another.

“Oh, who cares, I’m telling Tony. Umm, I’m trying to decide on baby names--” Darcy began, before Tony sucked in air.

“You got knocked up, Itty Bitty?” he said, sounding horrified.

“I’m a baby mama,” she said, laughing. “The baby daddy is from the Bronx and insists his family names are too guido and none of us know what that means?”

“Capsicle’s not the baby daddy?” Tony said.

“Tony, no,” Jane said.

“But I’m real happy to be an uncle,” Steve said, grinning so widely that Darcy started to laugh again.

“If he gets to be an uncle, I’m an uncle,” Tony said. “And Rhodey.”

“Yes,” Darcy said.

“And little Petey,” Tony said. “He’s gotta be an uncle, too, or he’ll make sad faces at me and I’ll feel bad.”

“Who?” Jane said.

“My Spider-kid,” Tony said. “He’s not literally mine, I’m just mentoring him.”

“Oh, no,” Jane whispered.

“I heard that!” Tony said.

 

***

After work, Darcy went back to Brock’s to pack her bags. Behind her, Brock stopped. “What are you doing?” he said.

“Going home?” Darcy said mildly, as she stuffed underwear into her bag.

“What?” he said.

“You said you wanted me to stay until she left….” Darcy said, looking at him. “Aren’t you ready to have your place back?”

“No,” he said. “Put down the reusable grocery bag suitcase.” It was her paw print Animal Rescue Site bag.

“You’re not sick of me yet?” she said, astounded.

“I saw you nearly twist your ankle trying to navigate a turnstile with a half-full coffee today, I can’t let you and the Nugget out of my sight,” he said. “Even if I do get sick of you.”

“Pfffht,” Darcy said. She stuck her tongue out at him. To her surprise, he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

“I don’t want you to go yet,” he said. “Ma’s right, I like having you all to myself. You want to go look at this ridiculous nursery stuff she bought ‘as a suggestion’ even though we haven’t even talked about nurseries yet?”

“Okay,” Darcy said. “Why didn’t we open it when she was here?”

“Because I wanted you to be able to laugh at it without being afraid to hurt her feelings, so I told her I’d return it, it was too soon,” he said.

“Oh,” Darcy said.

 

They looked over Angela’s gifts: adorable cozy baby clothes--Darcy particularly liked an infant onesie that was patterned with sunflowers--swaddling blankets, bottles, and even a little giraffe bath mitt. “I really like all of these---oh no,” she said. One box contained a car seat.

“What?” Brock said, looking alarmed.

“Do you know how to put in a car seat? They’re so freaking scary. My aunt can do it, so I always make her when I go home and babysit my second cousins. I’m going to have to learn to do car seats!” Darcy said mournfully.

“Oh,” Brock said. “It can’t be that hard, can it? I can put a scope on any gun,” he said.

“Let’s see it, then,” Darcy said, picking up the car seat. “I’m telling you, you need a degree in engineering and skill at Jenga, these things are nightmares.”

 

Fifteen minutes later, a sweaty Brock was cussing in the parking garage. “Fuck. Fucking shit! Why won’t you work, you plastic sonofabitch!” he yelled into the backseat of his car. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

“What’s wrong?” a passing neighbor said, eyeing him in alarm.

“We’re trying to install a car seat and it’s not cooperating,” Darcy said politely.

“Fucking made in China shit,” Brock muttered. “It says to _slide into place until you hear a click_ but this fucker won’t click. Click, you sonofabitch!” Darcy knew it was wrong to laugh, but she couldn’t help it. He turned a glare on her. “Are you laughing at me right now?” he said.

“Maybe?” she said.

“Oh, I see how it is, you laugh at the father of your babies?” he said, corralling her up against a neighboring car and leaning in for a kiss. When she was done kissing him, she grinned.

“Babies?” she said wryly. “Are we having twins? Do you know something I don’t know?”

“If this one turns out cute, you might want another one,” he said, shrugging. “And if I can’t get a fucking car seat installed, we’re gonna need a few backup babies, in case the first one doesn’t survive DC traffic,” he joked.

“Cut it out!” Darcy said. _“Mordersi la lingua!”_ Angela had taught her the Italian for ‘bite your tongue.’

“Ma has been teaching you things,” he said. He smirked and gestured for her to come closer.  “ _Vieni qui e baciami.”_

“What does that mean?” Darcy said.

“I think I’ll have to show you,” he said, not looking back as he shut the car door. "Upstairs."

She stayed at Brock’s another two days. Then he got called off on an overseas mission with Steve. When she got back to his place after work, she looked around and wondered what she was doing there alone. She called Jane.

“Can you come pick me up?” Darcy asked.

 

“Why are you leaving?” Jane asked, when Darcy climbed into the car with her and Thor and various Animal Rescue Site bags stuffed full of clothes and belongings.

“It’s not my home,” Darcy said. “If he wanted me to stay permanently, he’d ask me to move in. So, I shouldn’t get too used to this nice neighborhood or his espresso machine,” Darcy said. “Besides, I feel more comfortable sleeping alone in my own bed.”

“I gotcha,” Jane said. “Besides, I think Tony wants to send you baby stuff?” Confirmation of Tony’s desire to send her stuff was pasted on her door--a missed delivery notice from FedEx. They drove out to the FedEx warehouse and loaded the car up with gifts.  They had to wedge all the boxes into the back of Darcy’s modest little Honda.

“Awwwww,” Darcy said, as Thor and Jane helped her unbox everything from Tony: several onesies, a baby crib, and a huge stroller so expensive that Darcy almost fainted. “Jane!” she said, looking it up online. “This is a fancy imported British stroller.”

“What?” Jane said.

“My first car didn’t cost this much money!” Darcy said. She pointed to the price online. “Or, I don’t think it did. I can’t figure out the exchange rate. What’s that many euros in US dollars?”

“I dunno,” Jane said.

“It is rather interesting,” Thor said, tilting his head at the stroller. It was big, black, and oddly retro-looking.

“It looks like a _Rosemary’s Baby_ stroller,” Jane said. “Those are back?”

“Apparently?” Darcy said. “I’ve never even heard of Silver Cross. It does look very _find an old priest and a young priest, mah baby’s possessed,_ doesn’t it?”

“It does!” Jane said. "It's kinda creepy?" Even Thor laughed at that.

"Not just kinda, Janey," Darcy said.

***

Brock got back from the Tunisian mission feeling antsy. He’d been gone for ten days altogether and out of contact range. It meant he hadn’t been able to text Darcy or find out the status of her first ultrasound. He realized it would hurt if he’d missed it. He unlocked his apartment door and was surprised to see that all the lights were out. “Darcy?” he said. “Sweetheart?” Dropping his keys, he moved into the bedroom and flicked on the lights. The bed was empty. He checked the closets. Her bags were gone. He pulled out his cell and dialed. It rang twice.

“Hello?” she said, yawning.

“Where the hell are you?” he said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's good that some of y'all want this story to last a long time, because it'll be 90,000 words by the time she has this baby and they'll still be debating centuries-old Sicilian names, like Calogero (who was a 5th century hermit saint in Sicily and whose name used to be really popular) or Elizabella, which Darcy loves, but Brock insists sounds like a bizarre, made-up name or one of the brides of Dracula.
> 
> The fancy carriage! https://silvercrossus.com/balmoral-pram-navy.html


	6. In Italian, a Double Bed is a "Letto Matrimoniale," a Marriage Bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your comments and kudos! Y'all are the best!

“Um, my apartment?” Darcy said, sitting up in bed. She’d been eating popcorn and watching Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn bicker.

“Why?” he said.

“I live here?” Darcy said, puzzled. “I didn’t know you were back.”

“I just got home. I thought you would be here,” he said.

“We had plans?” she said, confused. She didn’t think they’d made plans or anything. Had they?

“No, but I thought you were staying,” he said. “Here. At my place. While I was out of town.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “No, I came back to my place when you left.”

“Why?” he repeated.

“My hot chocolate lives here?” Darcy said, still baffled at his tone. “And my blankets and clean underwear.”

“We need to talk--can I come over?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “Sure.”

 

Thirty minutes or so later, she heard him unlock the door. “Darcy?” he called out. She heard the lock click again.

“In the bedroom!” she called back.

“I’ve got groceries,” he said.

“Okay,” she said, “I’ll get up.”

“No. Stay there,” he said. She fluffed her pillows and listened to him move around in the apartment. A few minutes later, he came in carrying a little tray.

“What is that?” she said, when he’d set it down over her.

“Cheese,” he said, “that soft kind you like with herbs and edible flowers.” The cheese was in the shape of a heart. Next to the heart-shaped, flower-studded cheese, he’d laid out crackers and bread.

“Awwww, it’s so cute! Why’d you do this?” Darcy asked. “Is it like a Valentine’s Day thing?” The holiday was close enough that the stores already had merchandise.

“I know you’re upset,” he said, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “So, I want to make it up to you, apologize.”

“I’m not upset,” Darcy said, frowning. “Why would I be upset?” She spread a little goat cheese onto a Ritz.

“You left,” he said. “I wanted you to stay at my place, I thought I was pretty clear--”

“You think I came home because I’m upset?” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. “Listen, I just want to say--are you eating right now?” He looked surprised.

“You know how I feel about cheese, I love cheese,” Darcy said, licking a bit of goat cheese off her bottom lip. The herbs and flowers were delicious and the cheese itself was creamy. “This is the best goat cheese I’ve ever had, you did good,” she told him. He sighed.

“I’m trying to get you to move in with me and you’re focused on the cheese?” he said.

“It has edible flowers!” Darcy said defensively, before the sentence fully registered. “You want to live together? Permanently?” she asked, shocked.

“Yes,” he said. “You, me, the baby, all under one roof.” He grinned. “You know, the way people normally do _before_ they have a baby.”

“Hey!” Darcy said, waving a finger at him--she’d picked up that move from Angela--”this is 100% on your super swimmers, Mister. Don’t you go throwing shade in my direction.”

“Nah,” he said, smirking, “this is all on you, being so pretty.” He leaned in and kissed her. “That a yes? You want to live together?”  

“Yeah,” Darcy said, sighing happily. She was very pleasantly kissing him--he’d moved the cheese tray--when she stopped. “What about after the baby is born?” she said.

“Huh?” he said.

“We can’t live together after the baby is born!” she said.

“What?” he said.

“You need sleep, you can’t live with a crying baby,” Darcy said, in full blown alarm-spiral. “You wouldn’t be able to sleep.”

“I’m pretty sure I can handle it,” he said, frowning.

“You could _die_ if you even yawned at the wrong minute on a mission,” she said. “Be shot by a terrorist or something.”

“You think I’d miss being with my child before I quit my job?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“You’d quit?” Darcy asked.

“Eh, I could train the probie agents full-time,” he said. “Lots of people are good candidates to fill my job and Fury’s always after me to do more training work. It would be perfectly safe, _mia patatina.”_ He brushed the hair away from her face, grinning.

“What’s that mean?” Darcy said.

“Literally, my little potato, but nobody else better call you that because it also means my little pussy,” he said, smirking. “So, you wanna live with me?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, “let’s live together.”

“We don’t have to hurry,” he said, giving her back her cheese tray. He stood up and started to take off his clothes. “I’m spending the night.” Darcy laughed.

“What do you mean, not hurry?” she asked.

“I mean, you don’t have to pack everything tomorrow. We can do it over a week or two, look at your lease agreement for this shitty place,” he said, stripping down to his boxer-briefs.

“Shut up,” she said, throwing a pillow at his abs. It bounced off his stomach. He smirked and crawled into bed with her. “This cheese is amazing,” she told him, “best Valentine’s Day surprise ever.”

“That’s not your Valentine’s Day present,” he grumbled. “I booked us a weekend at the St. Regis. I need to cancel the champagne, though.”

“What?” Darcy said.

“I booked it a few weeks ago. I thought we could have a good time, you’d like the champagne and the nice tub,” he said.

“You didn’t tell me!” Darcy said.

“No, I just knocked you up and deprived you of good champagne,” he said cheerfully, stealing her remote and turning it to CNN. “One of these days, Anderson Cooper is just going to tell someone to fuck off and I wanna see it,” Brock said. He leaned back against her pillows, put an arm around her, and looked strangely content. Glancing over at him, Darcy giggled.

“I can’t believe that you want to live with me and a baby!” she said, delight blending with her surprise. “You didn’t even want a baby.”

“It’s my baby,” he said stubbornly. “Of course I want my child. I never said I didn’t,” he insisted.

“No, you just looked terrified at that first doctor’s appointment,” Darcy said, snickering.

“I was not. I wanted to take you home that night,” Brock said.

“You mean when you offered me sex?” Darcy said. “You meant that you wanted to install me as your live-in baby mama?” Darcy asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Well, not baby mama. I wouldn’t have said baby mama. You’re the one who likes that.”

“Official mistress of record? Mother of your illegitimate child?” she joked. He frowned.

“Don’t say that, either,” he said, rubbing her belly. “The Nugget will hear you.”

 

 

Darcy woke up to the warmth of Brock’s body. He had one arm slung across her chest and his face buried in her hair, snoring gently. “Brock,” Darcy said, attempting to wiggle free. He held her more tightly. He grumbled when she wiggled again and Darcy sighed. It was an affectionate sigh. Her baby daddy didn’t want to let her go. Oh well, she thought. Her alarm wasn’t going off for thirty more minutes anyway. They could snuggle. She went back to sleep. When she woke up again, he was kissing her.

“Hey,” he said, eyes glinting with mischief, “let’s practice making another one?”

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, grinning and reaching for his briefs. He was already hard. “We haven’t even had the first one.” He shrugged.

“Still good to practice,” he said, toying with one of her nipples through her nightshirt.

"Mmm-hmmm," she said.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said with surprising sweetness, stroking her clit. “You need to be wet, _mia patatina.”_ He kissed her and then crawled down under her sheet. He eased off her panties and pressed his mouth against her, sliding his tongue between her folds and against her clit.

“Oh God,” she moaned. “That feels so yummy.” To encourage him, she ran her fingers over the back of his neck, scratching at the short hairs. He pressed his tongue more firmly and she rocked towards him in response. She felt like she made of _feelings_ : the warmth of his mouth against her clit, the way the longest strands of his hair brushed her belly, and the grip of his hand on her thigh.He teased out his movements, finally sucking on her clit until she spasmed in response. “Oh, oh. I—I,” Darcy stuttered, as she came.

“What, baby?” he said, emerging from the sheet.

“I don’t know,” she said, breathlessly. He grinned.

“Yeah, right,” he said teasingly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. It was an oddly sensual, physical gesture.

 

Somehow, Brock orchestrated logistics for her move and got her out of her lease. A week later, she found herself standing in his apartment surrounded by her furniture, eating crackers to battle some more all-day morning sickness. “Where you want this?” Brock asked, holding up one of her photos of her and Jane. Her throws and pillows were on his couch. Her favorite, aging armchair was catty-corner to the couch. He’d already put her dishes in his cabinets and her clothes in the closet while she stayed late at work with Jane.

“You’re hanging up my stuff?” Darcy said. “You did all this?”

“Yeah,” he said. “You need to rest for the ultrasound. You’ve been sick a lot lately.” Darcy had been experiencing more morning sickness. Angela had apparently given Brock the recip for her soup, too.

“I think you get to lay down for that,” Darcy said, laughing. “Besides, they say the morning sickness goes away in the second trimester.”

“Remind me to ask the doctor about warm tubs,” he said. He meant their Valentine’s weekend. “I want to make sure that’s okay,” he said.

 

***

It was one of the first questions he asked the doctor at the sonogram. “As long as it is a regular bathtub and you keep the temperature below 101 degrees, you should be fine,” she said. “The issue with hot tubs is that they raise the body temperature of the baby too much. We’re going to run NTS tests, too, that screens for chromosomal abnormalities.” She readied the ultrasound wand and Darcy realized Brock was squeezing her hand nervously.

“Okay,” Darcy said, smiling at the doctor. She was trying to be cool and grown up about sitting there in a flimsy paper gown while a stranger stuck a be-condomed wand up her lady business. Don't make it weird, she reminded herself. She rolled her eyes up at Brock. “Are you nervous?” she asked. He was standing close to the top of the exam table.

“No,” he said stubbornly, rubbing her hand. “I’m sure everything is fine.”

“Let’s have a listen,” their doctor said. "This may be a little uncomfortable." She meant inserting the wand.

"Uh-huh," Darcy said politely.

"Now we should be able to hear...." the doctor began. That was when they heard the gentle thudding of the baby’s heartbeat.

“Heartbeat,” Darcy said, dazzled. They listened to it for a long moment as the doctor studied the image. They were both quiet. Darcy looked at Brock; his expression was intent and almost rapt. The fingers that held hers trembled a little.

“One baby,” the doctor said. “Here are the hands and feet.” She gestured to the screen.

“Fingers and toes are all there?” Darcy said. She squinted at the black and white image. “Can you tell the sex of the baby at this point?”

“No, however, your baby appears to have met all the 10-week milestones: normal spine and organ development, no visual evidence of abnormalities.”

“She’s very still,” Brock said.

“The baby may or may not be moving,” she explained, “it could actually be sleeping.”

“It’s mine, it’s 100% napping right now,” Darcy said jokingly, but she felt Brock tense a little.

“Are you sure?” he said.

“He’s never done this before,” Darcy said, totally ratting him out. “He’s a newbie at the baby daddy thing.” The doctor chuckled.

“Neither have you,” he said, stroking her hand. Darcy suspected he didn’t even realize he was doing it, he was so intent on the screen. “We’re both new at this,” he said, swallowing.

“Yes,” the doctor told him. “First sonograms are are always exciting.”

 

On the way back to the lab, Darcy stared at the image and sucked on a lemon Italian candy. Brock was being extremely careful in DC traffic, she noticed, but the stop and go was enough to make her a little pukey. “You’re freaking out,” she said to him, when she noticed his fingers drumming the steering wheel.

“I gotta figure out car seats,” he said abruptly.

“Ughhhhh,” Darcy said, half at the car seats, half at the motion of the traffic. “We’ve got time,” she said, burping.

“She’s so small,” he said quietly.

“She is the size of a strawberry,” Darcy said, grinning. “It’s so cute. Strawberry baby. How do you say strawberry in Italian?”

“Fragolina,” he said. When someone cut them off in traffic, he swore under his breath. Once they got to SHIELD headquarters, he insisted on walking her up to the lab. He didn’t usually do that, she realized.

“You’re hovering,” Darcy whispered to him, once some people had exited the elevator.

“It’s just so much more real now,” he said, looking off into some middle distance as he rubbed her shoulders. Darcy snuggled up under his arm for a second. When the doors opened again and people readied to get on, she made to step away, but he curled an arm around her inconspicuous belly. The SHIELD agents looked at them a little oddly.

 

“Here is the Fragolina,” Darcy announced to Jane, pulling out the sonogram photo, when they got to the lab.

“Ahhhhhh!” Jane shrieked, doing a dolphin noise. “I’m calling Steve,” she said. “He swung by a few minutes ago, asking if you were back yet.”

“You sit down,” Brock said to Darcy. “I’ll get you some decaf.”

“You’re waiting on me? What about your meeting?” she said. He had a STRIKE thing in five minutes, she knew.

“I’ll get it,” Jane told him, “go into your meeting and don’t get fired. I don’t want my niece or nephew’s father to be unemployed.”  Darcy laughed. She was surprised when Brock kissed her gently.

“Take your Nugget glamour shot,” she told him, giving him one of the ultrasound photos.

“Yeah,” he said, looking down at it. “Can we start telling people now?” he asked, looking serious. They’d been quiet about moving in together and only a handful of people knew about the pregnancy.

“You want to?” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. “Absolutely.” He kissed her again. “I need to ask Martinez about car seats. He’ll know.”

 

“He is so gone,” Jane said, once Brock left. “You think he’ll propose on your Valentine’s Day weekend?”

“Jane!” Darcy said. She was going to scold her for getting a pregnant lady’s hopes up, but then Steve appeared, beaming.

“Can I see it?” he said.

“Here it is!” Darcy said, passing him the ultrasound photo.

“Wow,” Steve said. “This is amazing.” He touched the photo with his index finger. “This is your baby.”

“She’s only as big as a strawberry,” Darcy supplied.

“Amazing,” he repeated. “They can tell it’s a girl?”

“Not quite yet,” Darcy said. “We’re just saying girl today. Yesterday, it was a boy. Nobody knows. Technically speaking, it could go either way, but all signs point to a healthy one.” She grinned at Steve’s happy expression.

“That’s swell, Darce,” he said.

 

By the time Darcy left work that afternoon, she’d gotten multiple congratulatory emails from SHIELD agents. “Is he telling everyone?” she said to Jane, surprised and pleased.

 

***

 

“You know what? You’re right, Frances Mayes _does_ have a weird thing about Sicily,” Darcy said, looking up at Brock from the couch where she was reading _Bella Tuscany_. He was reorganizing the kitchen cabinets while she read. She’d picked up the Italian travel memoir and Brock had scoffed at it. “I don’t get it. I’ve seen your mom’s photos of the Quattro Canti. It’s gorgeous. Did she go to a different Sicily?” Angela had sent Darcy her Instagram albums from her last trip to Palermo. The Quattro Canti was a public square where two streets met. The Baroque architecture was stunning, but you wouldn’t have gotten that impression from Mayes’ take on Sicily, which seemed weirdly gloomy to Darcy. She called the atmosphere of Sicily “oppressive” and fretted about being shot by the mafia at local funerals or something? Weird, Darcy thought.

“We have some of the most beautiful architecture in the world--cathedrals, palaces, even ancient Greek temples. Sure, yeah, okay, the postwar construction boom was corrupt, but that’s a nanosecond in Sicilian history. She can go back to Tuscany,” he said in a low voice, muttering something she didn’t understand.

“Did you just cuss a travel writer in rude Sicilian?” Darcy asked.

“Don’t tell the Nugget,” he said.

“ _Pepita_ , your father has a flair for drama,” she announced in a formal voice.

“Who taught you the word for nugget?” he asked.

“My other future baby daddy. I met him at Barnes & Noble with Jane yesterday in the Italian section. Luca. He’s very young and handsome and wants to teach me lots of new words,” Darcy lied cheerfully. There was no Luca, of course, but she’d gone to get Italian books just for fun. Brock looked at her, blinked, and stared, until she started to laugh. “Did you buy that?” she asked. “I googled, jelly.”

“Don’t tease me,” he grumbled. “It’s bad enough that Tony Stark wants to put our child in that bizarre coffin stroller.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, scrunching her nose. It was parked in the corner of the living room. “I think we’ll have to name the baby Damien if we use that thing. But Tony means well.” Brock shook his head. Darcy started to giggle.

“What?” he said.

“If we did name the baby that, imagine people’s faces!” Darcy said. She got up and pushed the huge stroller across the living room, miming a wave and a Stepford-inspired slow walk. “Yes, thank you, we think he’s adorable, too. What? Oh, his name is _Damien.”_ She burst out laughing.

“Darcy,” Brock said, but he was trying not to grin.

“He has his father’s eyes!” she said in a mock-hysterical voice.

“Very funny,” Brock said.

“You have great eyes,” she said seriously. “I hope the baby gets yours.”

“Really?” he said.

“Yup,” she said, returning to her book. “Venice! There’s a chapter on Venice. Have you been to Venice?”

“Uh, yeah, once,” he said. He looked uncomfortable.

“What?” she said.

“I went with, uh, a girlfriend?” he said. “It was no big deal.”

“Really?” she said sharply. Something about his tone was suspicious.

“Okay, I was pretty seriously involved with her at the time, but it didn’t work out…” he trailed off.

“What didn’t?” Darcy asked. He looked awkward, all of a sudden. Like he’d been caught stealing.

“We were engaged,” he said quietly. “I proposed in Venice. Later on, she broke it off.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, swallowing down a lump of envy and wishing she hadn’t asked.

“It was a bad experience,” he said slowly.

“I’m sorry. I bet that made your mother sad, too.” Darcy didn’t know quite why she said it, but the first thing she’d thought of--after that deep pang of envy that he didn’t want to propose to her in Venice--was Angela’s disappointment.

“Not really,” he said. “Ma didn’t really think she was right for me.” He paused for a second. “She thinks you’re adorable, you know that. My mother. Ma thinks you’re adorable,” he said, sounding strangled.

“I know, Angela says if you don’t work out, she’ll introduce me to one of your cousins in Trapani?” she told him, trying to lighten the mood and banish the weird feeling in her gut. She wasn’t usually envious, but she felt wildly jealous of this other woman, whoever she was, who’d been proposed to in _Venice_ and somehow precipitated a _bad experience_ that likely meant he’d never propose to her.

“Not funny,” Brock said, grinning in spite of his scolding.

“Giovanni’s gorgeous,” Darcy said idly. To her surprise, Brock dropped a plate on the counter. “Did it break?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and grinning.

“No,” he said. “And--and--how could she---he’s twenty-four!”

 

She was fine, she thought. Totally fine. She was okay all through dinner and after dinner and for a little while after that, but for some reason, her pregnancy mood swing kicked in viciously after Brock fell asleep. She’d had a few of them, but it had mostly been crying with happiness and relief (good ultrasound results, people’s congratulations) or at sad commercials (the Red Cross and those ASPCA ones were just too much if you were pregnant and ought to be restricted or something), not because of anything personal.  But, lying in bed that night, she wanted to sob all of a sudden. She tried to sleep, but multiple things still gnawed at her: the fact that he’d been seriously committed to someone else, how scared she was of going into labor and whether or not she would actually be good at parenting, that she hadn’t told her father yet, that she desperately needed real coffee, and that her back hurt a little already even though her belly was tiny. There was every likelihood that she would end up with back pain, frazzled hair, and thigh chafing by summer and be a hugely sweaty single mom. It was overwhelming. She glared at a snoring Brock. She felt irrational resentment at him for impregnating her and putting her in this situation.

 

Darcy got out of bed and hid in the bathroom. She sat on the edge of the bathtub, tried to sob silently, and texted it all to Jane. She had to send it twice. Her first text was so long, the message failed to send.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have (sorta?) confirmation of where in Italy Frank Grillo's family is from--someone added it to his Wiki page! Which one of y'all asked, lol? His paternal grandparents were from Calabria (the toe of the boot), just across the strait of Messina from Sicily. He grew up speaking Italian with them and if I'm reading correctly, his family was from Locri. This Italian website claims that his maternal grandparents were from Sicily and Campania--I ran it through Google translate: https://translate.google.com/translate?hl=en&sl=it&u=http://www.calabriansmostfamous.com/frank-grillo/&prev=search.
> 
> Locri looks very pretty and looks east: http://www.comune.locri.rc.it/index.php?action=index&p=494
> 
> I was SO close! I might retcon my Rumlow backstory in future stories to make him Calabrese, but I'm kinda attached to Sicily at this point, you know? People sometimes treat Sicily as a backwater or make easy mafia jokes, when it has the most interesting history. Fun fact: the feudal system (poor farmers/land workers with absentee landlords, plus a government that couldn't protect people) broke down in Sicily in the 1890s. The rise of the mafia=criminal networks taking advantage of a weak state to step in and either bully or offer people protection or both. It's not that Sicilians are inherently more criminal or some nonsense, it's that there was no effective legal system to protect them from theft and intimidation, so people were forced to make their own compromises.
> 
> How badly did I screw up the ten-week ultrasound, ladies who've had that?


	7. It Me, The Emotional Rollercoaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos!

“You feeling okay?” Brock asked Darcy the next morning when he brought her decaf coffee. She’d just gotten out of the shower. He thought she looked tired.

“Yeah,” she said, swiping on lipgloss. “I’m okay.” He tried to give her a little squeeze, but she didn’t respond like she normally would.

 _“Zuccherina,”_ he said softly, “tell me what’s wrong, huh? What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing,” she said, “I’m just feeling a little fatigue. I’m sure it’s nothing. Poor sleep or whatever. Jane says that interrupted sleep is normal in the first trimester. Can you give me a little space to get ready?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, pulling away. He felt stung. She was never like this, he thought. Something was upsetting her. He went into the kitchen and texted his mother.

 

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** Ma, did you say something to Darcy after you got the sonogram?

 **Glamnonna:** What? What do you mean?

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** She’s upset and won’t tell me why?

 **Glamnonna:** You need to ask her to marry you, idiot. Nobody wants to be single and pregnant.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** We’re living together, Ma. She’s not single, for fuck’s sake. I got her out of her lease.

 **Glamnonna:** Oh. Really? That’s wonderful!

 **Glamnonna:** Do you have to use that kind of language?

 **Glamnonna:** Let me send you the ring, anyway.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** Why do I let you spend time with Cap?

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** Besides, Ma, if we decide to get married, she gets her own ring, okay? I don’t want that one near Darcy. It’s jinxed.

 **Glamnonna:** It was a perfectly fine ring for twenty years after your father gave it to me for our anniversary. It’s not the ring’s fault that you had the dumb idea to try to give it to that stuck-up blonde. I told you she was no good for you!

 **Glamnonna:** Fine. I’ll give it to your sister. Darcy can have some of my other nice things.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** Ma, I’m sure she doesn’t want anything from the Joan Rivers collection.

 **Glamnonna:** You are an ungrateful child. I hope my grandchild takes after its lovely mother.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** Me too, Ma.

 **Glamnonna:** She can have my tourmelines, they will look pretty with her skin.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** Why are you always talking about what you’ll us leave us when you’re dead? It’s morbid.

 **Glamnonna:** Please, I’m giving things away now, so people can enjoy them. I’m not ruining that ring for your sister by making her think of me in my grave whenever she looks at it. I’m not morbid.

 **Glamnonna:** Besides, I have grandchildren now, I’m going to live to a hundred. People should get to wear my good jewelry before they’re seventy, too.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** Hey, uh, what’s the stone thing for September?

 **Glamnonna:** Sapphires. Is her birthday in September?

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** Baby’s due in Sept.

  


He found Darcy getting dressed. “Sweetheart,” he said, “you gotta tell me what’s going on, okay? Or I’m going to be worrying about you all day.” She sat down on the bed with a heavy sigh.

“I just feel tired and emotional about things that wouldn’t normally bother me,” she said to him. “I’m worried about labor, I’m worried about telling my dad, I’m worried about being a single mom.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about any of those things, okay? I’m going to be right there with you,” he said firmly, sitting down next to her. “We’re in this together. You’re not doing anything alone.”

“You don’t understand,” Darcy said, shaking her head. Her eyes looked teary. “I--I just feel _everything_ right now. And I know my father’s going to be difficult about me being pregnant and I’m dreading it.”

“Hey, hey,” he said, pulling her into his lap. He stroked her hair. “What if we wait, huh? If you don’t want him around or giving you trouble, just wait. He can find out later. I don’t mind having you all to myself, I keep telling you.”

“Really?” Darcy said. He looked at her seriously, tried to find the right words.

“I’m happy,” he said simply. “I like things just like this, you and me, don’t want anything different. What can I do to make you feel better?”

“I—I don’t know,” Darcy said. He thought she was hesitating.

“Okay, how about this? I’m going to call Jane and see if you can come home early today and then we’re going to rest, okay? You’re supposed to be tired, the baby is going to double in size soon. You’ll feel better when you’ve had some sleep,” he said.

“What about the weekend? Do you not want to go with me?” Darcy said. Her voice was almost tearful again. “I’m such a mess.”

“Darcy,” he said, “you are going to snuggle with me on some very fancy sheets, have room service, and stay in bed for the whole weekend, okay?”

 

***

Darcy didn’t know what was wrong with her, except that she’d slept so poorly that she just wanted to cry. She held it mostly together until Brock dropped her off with Jane, then burst into tears again. “Oh, Darce, it’ll be okay,” Jane said, hugging her. Jane cocooned Darcy in the blanket they kept in the labs for brief naps and made her cups of decaf and let her talk it out. “Tell me which thing has you most worried?” she asked, frowning.

“He was engaged to somebody else and it went badly and now he’ll never marry me,” she said tearfully. “I’m going to be the sad single mom who’s all hung up on her ex or whatever we are,” Darcy said. “I don’t even know what we are!”

“Darce,” Jane said gently, “you’re living together. He just told both of us that he’s scheduled a meeting with Fury about transitioning out of STRIKE Alpha and training new agents full-time so he can be home _with both of you_ every night.”

“What if he misses field work or Fury won’t let him quit?” Darcy said, sniffling. Jane grinned, in spite of herself.

“I think you’re much closer to getting everything you want,” Jane said. “And I think you should tell him you want to get married, because the second you ask for anything, he runs and gets it for you. You might have a wedding scheduled before you could finish the word wedding.”

“Shut up,” Darcy said, feeling weirdly cheered up by Jane’s certainty. “You are annoyingly smug with your logical, evidence-based optimism. He doesn’t get me _everything.”_

“The other day, you mentioned you were cold and he ran to a Target to buy you more socks and a sweater in the middle of the workday. He came back with that and a decaf vanilla latte! He’s totally spoiling you,” Jane said. “I’m a little jealous, honestly.”

“Yeah, well, okay,” Darcy said, feeling all weird. “I’ll give you that.” Jane started to laugh. “What?” Darcy said.

“Like he wouldn’t tell Fury to go straight to hell if Fury tried to stop him from being around you and the baby,” Jane said. “How is my niece or nephew today?”

“The baby is tired, too,” Darcy said. “God, I feel so tired. Just exhausted. I don’t think I was this exhausted when there were aliens or that semester I took eighteen hours and worked.”

“Here, I’ll get you my secret nap pillow, y’all can nap,” Jane said.

“Have you been sleeping here without my knowledge?” Darcy said, sitting up a fraction. “You’re not supposed to sleep here, you’re supposed to go home and sleep in a bed like a normal person.”

“Ha!” Jane said, “when Preggo Darcy is away, the lab mice will play.”

“Jane, I will give you a lecture about sleep deprivation,” Darcy said. “But first, I gotta pee.”

“Maybe you’re tired because you have to go pee every fifteen minutes,” Jane joked. “That’s a lot of walking.”

“Ughhhh,” Darcy said, clamouring out of her blanket and stomping off to the ladies’ room. On her way there, she ran into Steve. “Hey, Steverini!” she said, waving. She tried to be cheerful around non-Jane people. Plus, he was standing with a blonde she didn’t know.

“Hey, Darce, come over here,” Steve said. “Come meet Sharon Carter.”

“Hi,” the blonde woman said, smiling warmly.

“Carter like Peggy?” Darcy asked curiously.

“The very same,” Steve said, beaming, “she’s Peggy’s great niece.”

“That’s awesome,” Darcy said, giving her a thumbs up.

“Darcy and Brock are having a baby,” Steve said. “She’s the one.”

“That’s great,” Sharon said. At the same time, Darcy looked at Steve.

“The one what?” she said.

“The one he’s running all over SHIELD talking about!” Steve said cheerfully. “Everyone’s seen your sonogram.”

“Excuse me, we’re calling it my Nugget’s first glamour shot,” Darcy said. Sharon started to laugh.

“Oh, my God, I haven’t thought about those in years,” Sharon said. They talked about babies, cheesy glamour shots, and Peggy’s red lipstick--Steve blushed, to Darcy’s glee---until Darcy excused herself. “It’s really great to meet you, but I really have to pee!” she said. Steve laughed so hard at that, he actually doubled over.

  


At work, Darcy started to feel terribly queasy and bloated. She ate about five lemon candies, had several bouts of morning sickness, and was thoroughly tired by noon.

“What if we gave our reservations for Valentine’s Day to Jane and Thor?” Darcy asked quietly, when Brock came to see her at lunch. “Or sold them? I’m sure they’d reimburse us?”

“What?” he said, frowning. He’d brought her a basil tomato panini. For some reason, the smell of chicken was making her nauseous, but basil and tomato were still okay.

“I was just thinking that I’m maybe not in the mood for Valentine’s Day,” she said. “All preggo. And you’re probably spending a lot of money….” she trailed off, feeling awkward.  

 _“Zuccherina,”_ he said, “I think this will be good for you. Besides, room service is fun. We can have chocolate cake in bed and nobody has to wash dishes, huh?”

“Okay,” Darcy said, trying to sound cheerful.

 

***

 

The St. Regis was stunning. “This looks like somewhere in London or Paris,” Darcy said, when they got to the hotel. Jane and Thor had dropped them off. The lobby-level rooms she could see were all decorated in gilt and red.

“It’s nice, right?” he said, shaking his head. “I planned to help you build your own mimosas this weekend.”

“You can drink,” Darcy said, shrugging. “I don’t mind.”

“Fifty year old men who drink alone are sad men,” he told her. “Let’s get checked you in, okay? Then I’m going to see how much I have to bribe someone to get afternoon tea served to you in bed.”

“Like British afternoon tea?” Darcy said, perking up. “With scones? I haven’t had that in years.”

“If I can manage it, yeah,” he said.

He managed it. It turned out that luxury hotels would take pity on you if you'd gotten pregnant after he made your Valentine’s Day reservations, especially if your federal agent baby daddy mentioned that you’d been having unsightly morning sickness. Faced with the prospect of Darcy upchucking on the fancy downstairs furnishings, they agreed to serve her anything she wanted in the privacy of her room. So, Darcy was curled up in her pajamas when room service arrived with her afternoon tea. “Stay in bed,” Brock said, getting up. A minute or two later, he rolled a cart next to her bed. On it was a full afternoon tea service: trays of petit fours, scones, and sandwiches. There was even a pretty teapot.

“I got you decaf tea,” he said, “and coffee.”

“This is so cute,” Darcy said, starting to tear up again. “I don’t know why I’m crying? It’s just really sweet.” She swallowed.

“Have a scone,” he said. “It’s two or three times the size of our child.” He said it so calmly that Darcy started to laugh.  

“How are you so unruffled?” she said.”You’re living with me, the Emotional Rollercoaster?”

“I love rollercoasters, actually. Ma always said my taste for adrenaline would get me in trouble,” he said, grinning. He moved over to the other side of the big bed, crawling in next to her. He rubbed her back as she ate things off the tray. He swiped one of the cucumber sandwiches, bit into it, then frowned. “What the hell kind of sandwich is this?” he asked.

“Cucumber!” she said, laughing. “Here, swap with me?” She offered him her scone. She’d taken one bite that looked like a half-moon. They traded items and he turned the scone and looked at it quizzically. “Whatcha doing?” she asked. He grinned.

“Trying to figure out how the British had an empire with food this tragic,” he said.

“Maybe that’s why all those sailors left,” Darcy joked, feeling more cheerful with him snuggling her. “If they’d had amaretti and pizza from Naples, maybe they would have stayed home.”

 

After they’d eaten a bunch of pastries and sandwiches, he rubbed her back under her pajama shirt. “We should talk about the next big thing,” he said.

“What next big thing?” Darcy said.

“The nursery. We’ve got the satanic baby stroller, the car seat, clothes, crib, what else should we get?” he asked.

“One of those little newborn bath tubs,” Darcy said, “and baby monitors. What are you doing?”

“Taking your shirt off,” he said cheerfully. He’d reached around and was undoing her buttons. “I want to work out some of these knots in your back. Slide out of this thing.” 

“You’re right this was a great idea,” Darcy told him, a few minutes later. She was eating some sort of chocolate petit four, mostly naked, and sprawled on her belly, while he rubbed her back. “I feel like I’m reaping all the benefits, though."

“Oh, I dunno,” he said, “I get the view.” Darcy laughed at him.

“Because I’m so attractive, all bloaty and pregnant and crying,” she scoffed.

 _“Zuccherina,_ you look incredible,” he said, planting a kiss on her shoulder. “I love you and the baby,” he said softly. She looked at him, caught his intent expression, and started to cry.

“I love you, too. So much,” Darcy said, blubbering. “Oh God, I’m making it weird, aren’t I?” She was surprised when he lifted her up gently and held her against his chest. He rocked her as she cried.

“Hey, hey,” he said, “it’s okay. This is a big moment, having a baby.”

“For a second there, I thought you were gonna say big mood,” Darcy said, once she’d gotten control of herself.

"Big mood?" he said.

"The kids are all saying it," she explained.

“Do you want to see your Valentine’s Day present?” he asked. “Since I made you wait until the 15th?” Valentine’s Day had been on a Thursday, so he’d teasingly made her wait until they checked into the hotel on Friday afternoon.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “Gimme, gimme.” She leaned up and kissed his chin lightly.  

“I’ll be right back,” he said, sliding her down onto the bed so he could get up. “It’s in my bag,” he said. He came back with a slim, rectangular wrapped present.

“I can open it now?” she said.

“Uh-huh,” Brock said, grinning at her. She tore open the paper enthusiastically. Inside was a velvet jewelry box for a bracelet. She popped it open.  

“This is beautiful,” she said. The bracelet had a delicate rose gold chain with a sparkling white and blue eye in the center. “An eye?”

“It’s an amulet to protect you from the evil eye,” he said. “I thought it might be lucky. And you needed it, since people are giving us strange baby strollers. Also, the Nugget’s due in September, so sapphires?”

“Awwww,” Darcy said, tearing up again.

 

***

 _“Coccolissima,”_ Brock said to her one night that weekend, “what names are we debating tonight?” They were snuggling in the hotel bed.

“Huh?” Darcy said. Intelligently. She took the spoon out of her mouth. He’d been feeding her various cheeses and Nutella mousse from room service. It was their compromise on protein. “What’d you call me?”

“It means Snuggles or Cuddles,” he said cheerfully. “You’re very snuggly.”

“I’m snuggly?” Darcy said.

“Mmm-hmm,” he said. “Good feeling. So, baby names?”

“Caterina and Gianni,” she said.

“Hmm,” he said, shifting and grinning lazily. “Like those fine.” They were snuggling contentedly--or Darcy was content and she assumed Brock was, from the way his jaw relaxed and he looked on the verge of falling asleep--when Darcy’s phone rang. She reached for it, but Brock got it first and passed it to her.

“Hello?” Darcy said, still licking mousse off the spoon.

“Darcy, it’s me,” her daddy’s voice said. “What’s this I hear about you being pregnant?”

“Uhhhhhh,” Darcy said. Intelligently.

“Please tell me you aren’t pregnant, honey,” he said, sighing. “We raised you better than that.” When he said the last three words, he ran them together, so it sounded like _better’n that._

“Daddy,” Darcy said, offended at his tone, “I’m not some seventeen year old child--”  To her surprise--he wasn’t a big phone talker--he continued to talk.

“Well, come home, I’ll see what I can do,” he said, sighing heavily again.

“See what you can do?” Darcy said, confused. She half sat up next to Brock. He was frowning.

“I might have to promise Gus sole ownership of the soybean farm to get him to raise this child,” her daddy said. “I’m pretty sure he’d marry you, but I never accounted for him raising somebody else’s child. We might be able to throw together a wedding in a week or two, if we have it at the house.”

“What?” Darcy said, stunned. “Daddy, I am _not_ coming home and marrying Gus in the backyard.”

“Well, who is going to raise this baby?” her father said. The way he said it made her mad.

“I’m raising this baby!” she yelled into the phone.

“Give me the phone,” Brock said in a deadly voice. Darcy looked at him. In her shock, she’d sorta forgotten he was there. He looked pissed off. She’d never seen his expression so rigid.

“Who’s that?” Beau said.

“The baby’s actual daddy,” she said sharply.

“Let me speak to this man,” her daddy said.

“Fine,” Darcy said, though she was not at all fine. She handed the phone to Brock. “Have at it,” she told him.

“Hello,” Brock said quietly. He paused for a second. Darcy could tell her father was talking. “I want to be very clear,” Brock said sharply. “This is my child, you understand? My son, my daughter, whatever we end up with. Mine. Which means I’m the father. Nobody else. Uh-huh. Is that right?”

“What is he saying?” Darcy hissed. Brock covered the receiver.

“He’s flying here next week,” he said. He turned back to the phone. “Darcy’s living with me and we’re prepping the nursery, so I’m afraid you’ll have to book a hotel,” he said, smirking. “Mr. Lewis.” He tacked it on like an insult.

“Oh, no,” Darcy whispered. “Oh no.” Overcome by a sudden burst of nerves, Darcy felt a wave of nausea, scooted off Brock’s body, and fled to the bathroom. She was heaving over the toilet when Brock came in.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Noooooooo,” she moaned. “I cannot deal with my daddy right now.”

“Hey,” he said, kneeling behind her and stroking her hair, “I’m taking care of this. He’s not gonna bully you into moving back to fucking North Carolina. We’re gonna get some things straight.” He muttered things that she was fairly sure were Italian swear words. “Wants to take my family,” he said, sounding furious. “You know what? I agree with your mother. We’re naming this baby Carmine or Angelo. Shit, I’m changing my name back to Romano, just to see the old man’s head explode.”

Darcy laughed and leaned back against him. “I should have known our weekend was going too well,” she told him. "I was having such a good time!" She looked sadly down at her bracelet. "If he brings Grandma, I'm going to need you to step up," she told the diamond and sapphire amulet.

Brock looped an arm around her bare belly and kissed the top of her head. "No one is making you feel bad about the baby," he said seriously. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm imagining Darcy's bracelet looks like this: https://www.macys.com/shop/product/gift-by-effy-diamond-evil-eye-bracelet-1-3-ct.-t.w.-in-14k-rose-gold?ID=6221207


	8. Eternal Flame Is Still A Really Good Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos! Y'all are the best!

After they checked out of the hotel early Monday morning, Darcy called her mom. She was waiting downstairs in the car while Brock ran upstairs for his gym bag. “You won’t believe what Daddy’s doing,” she said.

“Something asinine?” her mother said archly.

“He offered to arrange a shotgun wedding for me and Gus,” Darcy said dryly. “Wanted Gus to marry me and raise the baby as his. I yelled at him.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Elizabeth said.

“Oh, it gets worse: he is descending upon us on Thursday,” she said. “Like a freaking plague, Mom.”

“Oh no,” her mother said. “Sweetie, I would love to come to give you backup, but I’ve got two appeal hearings…”

“Mom, we’ve got this. Don’t worry,” Darcy said immediately. “Brock is absolutely livid. He’s threatening to change his last name back to Romano and name the baby Angelo or Carmine. He’s talking about being Team Liz on the baby name front,” she said, laughing. “I think I could convince him to say yes to Dominic now,” she joked.

“Good,” Liz said. “How are things between you two?”

“We had a really great Valentine’s weekend at the St. Regis and he told me he loved me and the baby,” Darcy said, feeling weepy again. “Even though I’m the queen of the waterworks now. Just crying at random moments.” Her voice got a little choked up.

“Oh, sweetie,” Elizabeth said. “I’m so happy you’ve met someone who loves you and supports you. That’s so important.”

“Also, I have a very fancy new bracelet that protects against the evil eye that I’m hoping will help if Daddy brings Grandma,” Darcy told her mother. Elizabeth burst into laughter.

 

***

 

“How was your weekend?” Jane asked, when the two of them walked in.

“Great,” Darcy said. “Until my father called. You’ll never guess what he wants me to do--”

“What’d he do?” Jane said, alert.

“He wants me to marry Gus in the backyard!” Darcy said. “An actual shotgun wedding with a decoy groom!”

“Oh my God,” Jane said, eyes wide. “He’s still on Gus, huh?”

“What do you mean, still on Gus?” Brock said, pausing. He’d been rubbing Darcy’s shoulders.

“I haven’t told him about Gus,” Darcy told Jane. She looked at Brock. “Daddy’s wanted me to marry Gus for years, he’s Daddy’s favorite, really,” Darcy explained. “Gus’s dad was the farm manager and he and Dad are close friends, so Dad sort of groomed Gus to be the next farm manager. We were raised together? Dad sent him to NC State to get an ag degree and Gus is very bright and responsible and talented, so what Daddy would really love is for me to marry Gus, so I would inherit the farms from him and Gus would manage them and we’d have a bunch of cute kids and Daddy and Renaldo--that’s Gus’s dad--would be both grandparents?” she said.  “It’s weirdly dynastic.”

“To her dad’s credit, Gus is young and _very_ good-looking,” Jane said slyly. “So, she hasn’t shown you pictures?”

“Jane, don’t torture Brock,” Darcy said. “Daddy already wants to pass the baby off as Gus’s.”

“Shouldn’t Brock know what he’s up against before your father shows up?” Jane asked.

“Yes, I should,” Brock said coolly. “Show me.” Jane tapped her screen and an image Darcy recognized as her father’s farms webpage appeared. Gus, of course, had his own page, in the About Us section. Someone had taken his photo inside the tobacco greenhouse. He was wearing a dress shirt and beaming. “That guy?” Brock said in a strangled voice, “that guy is a farm manager?”

“I’ve always thought he looked like Jesse Metcalfe,” Jane said.

“Yeah, he’s really photogenic, it’s annoying. All our photos as kids, the rest of us look like normal children, and there’s Gus, like a model, all lit from within. They actually put him on the brochure for one of the ag programs at State, I think he’s still on it,” Darcy said.

“What I’ve never understood is, if your Grandma hates Catholic so much, how does she treat Gus? Aren’t the Aguilars Catholic, if Renaldo and his wife emigrated from Mexico?” Jane said.

“Renaldo and Jimena are like my Grandma’s one exception to the Catholics are misguided rule, since they were there when Granddaddy died and helped Daddy and Uncle Vance run the farms, she thinks they can do no wrong. Grandma’s always been really good at carving out exceptions for her favorite people,” Darcy said. “I think that’s how she justifies Daddy’s winery.”

“Winery? Just how big is this farm?” Brock asked. “If it needs a manager and two owners and has a fucking winery?”

“Umm, I think Daddy and Uncle Vance inherited about 200 acres each, but Daddy always put his money back into building the business, so he’s grown his section to about 850 acres?” Darcy said.  “It’s a big farm. Farms, really. He and Renaldo diversified, so they do multiple crops and businesses. Daddy would like to add some vacation cabins for the scuppernong winery,” Darcy said.

“What is scuppernong?” he asked.

“A muscadine grape. Oldest vine in America,” Darcy supplied. “There’s a 400-year old vine on Roanoke that they call “the Mother Vine.”

“It tastes a lot like moscato,” Jane said. “Very sweet.”

“I brought a bottle with me, it’s in your kitchen. You can make non-alcoholic muscadine cider, too. Grandma will drink that,” Darcy told Brock.

“I didn’t know they even made wine in North Carolina,” Brock said.

“Last time we talked, he was planting more vines. Plus, last Christmas he bought me that 90-acre hunting and timber tract,” Darcy said. “He always buys me land as presents.”

“Because you hunt so much,” Jane said dryly.

“It’s technically waterfront? On a creek,” Darcy said mechanically. “That’s where the winery’s vacation cabins might go, if he can get permits. He usually does.”

“So, this isn’t some little farm…” Brock began.

“Nope,” Jane said. “You knocked up the Soybean Princess of Eastern North Carolina.”

“And his plan is to marry you off to the male model who runs the farms,” Brock said.

“Yup,” Darcy said. “I’ve always thrown a monkey wrench into his plans to leave me some sort of diversified, award-winning agri-empire with Gus, traveling around the world with Jane.”

“I believe he called ‘ _runnin’ around, being somebody’s assistant’_ when we met,” Jane said sharply, doing air quotes. “He thinks his daughter is too good to get my coffee.”

“But not too good to be a farm wife,” Darcy said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Brock said soothingly, rubbing her shoulders again.

“She’s exaggerating slightly, anyway,” Jane said, “since she would be the farm wife with a Cadillac and a beach house. And the whole thing is probably in trusts in your name, you know that. Your father would want Gus to be a very obedient, faithful sort of husband, not one who got ideas about taking half from you and your children to give to any second wives." Jane grinned at Brock. "He's probably going to tell you that you'll never be able to touch her money."

"I don't want anybody's fucking money," Brock grumbled. "I didn't even know there was money in North Carolina wine."

“God, it all seems so boring and stressful at the same time,” Darcy said. “I don’t want that money, either. It’s consumed his whole life. You know, he never goes anywhere or does anything but work? He doesn’t see movies or read books that aren’t related to farming? One summer, my mom badgered him until he gave in and coached Little League with my cousins, but that was twenty years ago!”

 

***

 

Darcy was using the bathroom for the third time that Monday when two SHIELD agents came into the ladies’ room. “Oh, Sharon’s back from Langley, I saw her today,” one of the women said.

“Carter?” the other asked, going into a stall. Darcy paused, curious.

“Uh-huh,” the first one said.

“Does she know about Rumlow?”

“I don’t know, why would it matter?”

“Weren’t they engaged years ago?” the second agent asked. Darcy’s hand froze over the toilet paper roll.

“No,” the first agent said, laughing.

“Oh. Who am I thinking of?” the other woman asked, flushing the toilet.

“He was engaged to that Army captain, whatshername? She and Carter _do_ look a little alike, though. I could see where you’d get them mixed up. Both tall, blonde hair,” the first agent said. “Oh, God, what’s her name? Frankie somebody. I hate when this happens to me--it’s the one who’s dating the Storm guy who could be Cap’s twin, but sketchier? Douchey Cap?”

“Johnny Storm?”

“Yes! That’s the one. It was his girlfriend. Johnny Storm’s girlfriend, Frankie.”

 _Johnny Storm,_ Darcy thought, _who the hell is Johnny Storm?_ It totally sounded like a fake name.

 

***

 

“Oh my God, Jane, he was engaged to some Army captain who looks like Britney freaking Spears,” Darcy announced as she walked into the lab. She’d washed her hands and then immediately hit Google.

“Who? What?” Jane said.

“Brock. Brock was engaged to Army Britney,” Darcy said. “Or Army Barbie, I can’t decide. Her boyfriend really does look like Cap though. So weird.”

“What are you talking about?” Jane said, totally baffled.

“This! This woman is Brock’s ex-fiancée!” Darcy said, showing Jane a photo she’d found online of the woman--Captain Frankie Raye--at the wedding of Sue Storm and Reed Richards.

“That’s Sue and Johnny Storm?” Jane said. “I know Sue.”

“You know her?” Darcy said.

“She’s a genetics researcher?” Jane said. “She and Brock were engaged?”

“No, no, he was engaged to the woman who is dating Johnny Storm now,” Darcy said, pointing to the other blonde figure in the photo. “This woman.”

“Oh,” Jane said. “I did not know Sue’s brother looked so much like Steve!”

“Yeah,” Darcy said.

“And now he’s dating Brock’s ex,” Jane said. “How’d you find out?”

“I overheard it in the bathroom. What? Don’t look at me like that. She’s the bad experience, apparently. What kind of bad experience?” Darcy mused out loud.

“I don’t know, the last time I saw Sue, she was at a conference with her new husband, Reed Richards? He’s really smug and unpleasant. Ugh, and Sue’s so nice, I don’t know how she ends up with these awful, awful men,” Jane said. “Are you sure? I could send her an email, ask for gossip?”

“Do it,” Darcy said.

“Why, though? She’s with Johnny, Brock’s with you. They’ve both obviously moved on, why are you worried?” Jane asked, frowning.

“I want to know what went wrong, so I can avoid repeating whatever it is,” Darcy said. “I gotta know, Janey. This could impact the Nugget’s future.”

“Okay,” Jane said, deciding it was best not to argue with Darcy when she was clearly in the grips of some pregnancy-driven obsession. At the very least, this would keep her from fretting about her dad’s arrival on Thursday, right?

 

Darcy worked on her Google fu all afternoon, scanning all the paparazzi photos of Johnny Storm, calling in favors, and getting Cameron Klein’s help to find any information about one Captain Frankie Raye. By the time she was supposed to meet Brock to go home, Darcy had discovered Raye was a West Point graduate, had been dating Johnny Storm on and off for _six_ years, had a reputation for being very by the book, and had once been briefly engaged to Brock. It looked suspiciously like her relationship with Brock had overlapped--according to Cameron’s SHIELD database sneaking skills--with the military work that had brought her into contact with Johnny Storm. “Ughhhhh,” Darcy groaned, when she read Cameron’s email.

“What?” Jane said.

“She left him for the Human Torch!” Darcy whispered in a hiss.

“Well, that explains some of the tension between him and Steve, remember when Steve said Brock used to stare at him?” Jane said. “That’s gotta be weird. Like you working with a girl who looks exactly like Cressida,” she said to Darcy. That was the girl Ian had dumped Darcy for; a super-posh, extremely boring British researcher who’d always been smug to both Jane and Darcy whenever they ran into Ian at conferences.

“Huh?” Darcy said.

“Cressida? Ian’s girlfriend?” Jane prompted.

“Oh, I totally forgot about Snoozida,” Darcy said. Jane mimed falling asleep and Darcy laughed. “You don’t think Brock is still carrying a torch for the woman who left him for the Human Torch, do you?” Darcy asked. “It was more than five years ago….”

“Are you still carrying a torch for Ian?” Jane asked dryly.

“God, no,” Darcy said. She never even thought about Ian, really.

 

***

 

Darcy was acting a little weird, Brock thought. She kept looking at him as they drove home and wrinkling her forehead, as if something was bugging her. “Something wrong?” he said.

“This is weird, but why did your engagement end? You said it was a bad experience?” Darcy asked, surprising him.

“Uhhh, yeah, it was difficult,” he admitted. “She’d wanted to get married, I didn’t, but she pushed for a commitment. On paper, we made sense. Then she met another guy at work, there was chemistry, apparently. I sensed something was wrong, but I thought it was just her being preoccupied with planning the, uh—?”

“Wedding?” Darcy supplied.

“Yeah, that,” he said, frowning. “Anyway, one night this dude shows up at my old apartment, drunk, with a mariachi band, and a tambourine, and serenades her—” Brock explained.

“He sang?” Darcy said, sounding shocked. Brock chuckled wryly.

“The Bangles’ _Eternal Flame,_ actually. He was a real asshole, but it’s not bad as a mariachi song. She handed me the ring back and just left in the middle of dinner. We lost all the, uh, deposits on wedding stuff we’d booked and it was just humiliating to have to tell people it was called off. So, that soured me on relationships for a while,” he told her.

“Oh,” Darcy said. He thought she sounded sad.

“It’s not a big deal anymore. The weirdest part is, the guy she left me for looks like Cap,” Brock said. “SHIELD’s archivist figured out they’re cousins, but they look identical. I walk into a meeting with Fury one day, he tells us, this is Captain America, we just found him. I accidentally said, _Motherfucker, you have got to be kidding me_ out loud.”

“Ahhh! You did?” Darcy said, laughing. “Was Steve horrified?”

“Yeah,” Brock said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been able to correct that first impression. Until I knocked you up, _zuccherina.”_ He grinned at her. “I think Cap likes me now.”

“He just loves babies,” Darcy said. “He’s got baby-fever. He thinks Suri is a nice name. He heard it on television today and sent me a text!”

“The celebrity baby?” Brock said, laughing.

“I don’t think he knows about Tom Cruise, he missed all that,” Darcy said. “Don’t tell him. He thought it was so pretty.”

“Fine,” Brock said, smirking. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Darcy sighed. “What?” he said.

“There’s nothing in particular that made that relationship fall apart is there?” she asked suddenly.

“Huh?” He chuckled. “Other than her being in love with somebody else?" Brock asked.

"I'm serious, I mean," Darcy said, sighing, "we're having a baby, so if there are dealbreakers, I don't want to not know..." He looked at her, really looked. Her expression was anxious.

"Don’t worry about the past, okay? The past is over,” Brock said, squeezing her hand.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. She was very quiet the rest of the way home.

 

He got her to laugh again when he picked her up in the parking garage and carried her into the elevator. "What are you doing?" Darcy asked.

"A little light kidnapping. Are you actually jealous of my ex?" he said.

"She's very tall," Darcy said. "And blonde. Also, not pregnant."

"You looked her up?" Brock said, astonished.

"I overheard people talking about it in the bathroom," Darcy said. "She and Johnny are still together, by the way. GettyImages has photos of them at the MTV Awards last month."

"They're still together?" Brock said, laughing. "You've got to be shitting me. She must really be in love with him."

"Not married, though," Darcy said. "But they wore matching clothes. Like Britney and Justin."

"See? They were meant for each other. Good evening, Mrs. Jacobson,” he said politely to the woman holding the door for them. “We’re having a baby.”

“When are you due?” she asked Darcy.

“September,” Darcy said.

“Congratulations,” she told them.

"Thank you," Brock said.

***

 

“I’ll tell you what made it fall apart,” he said later, slowing the movement of his hips. They were naked. 

“What?” Darcy said, breathlessly. She had convinced him to take her straight to bed, just in case lack of intimacy was a problem in his previous relationship. After this, she was going to get him to try some of her father's muscadine wine. She wanted see his facial expression when he had some of last year's. Her father had named the blush wine after her, since it was her favorite.

“Luck,” he said. “Stupid, blind luck. I’m so fucking lucky,” he said, laughing in her ear. He kissed the side of her face tenderly. “Otherwise, I’d have knocked you up in Jane’s supply closet and be in the middle of a messy divorce right now.”

“You would have left your _wife_ for me?” Darcy said, stunned.

“She left me for Frat Cap, technically, she did it first,” he said dryly. “But yes. I’m crazy about you.”

“Brock?” Darcy said, as he started moving his hips again. She moaned.

“Yeah?” he said, smirking. “You like that?” Darcy nodded, curling her fingers over his shoulders.

“I want--I want--” she said.

“What do you want, _coccolissima?”_ he said, kissing her face and grinning.

“I want to get married,” she said.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frankie Raye and Johnny Storm, in case you missed her. She's the one who tries to catch the bouquet at the end of Fantastic Four 2 and he flames it out: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PSjO3Pl_cb4


	9. What Is A Butterbean?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your hilarious comments and kudos!

“Huh?” Brock said, his hips stuttering to a stop. He was so surprised, he slid over a little, lost his sexual focus. Brock didn’t think Darcy wanted to get married. He looked down at her. It was a fractional pause, but it happened. She burst into tears and began slapping at him.

“Get off me! Get off,” she yelled. He moved over, stunned, and tried to talk to her.

“Sweetheart,” he said, pleadingly. “I didn’t mean—-” but it was too late. She crawled from the bed, ran into the bathroom, and slammed the bathroom door. He could hear the lock click and her choking sobs. Brock got up and leaned against the door.

“You want to get married?” he said. “We’ll get married, _zuccherina.”_

“You don’t want to!” Darcy yelled through the door. “I saw your face!”

“I was just surprised,” he said. “I swear.”

“I might as well marry Gus, if that’s how you really feel,” she said sobbing. “I can’t believe I was so stupid.”

“Darcy, goddammit, open this door,” he said.

“No,” she said. “I’m only opening it for Jane. I don’t want to stay with somebody who—who,” Darcy said.

“Who what?” Brock said.

“Can’t maintain an erection when I say the word _marriage,”_ Darcy hissed.

“Hold on just a fucking minute,” he said. “My dick is fine.”

“Yeah, I can see there’s no five second delay for that response,” Darcy said, sobbing again. “But you need a full minute when I say I want to marry you!”

“Darcy,” he said. “Come on, come back to bed, we’ll talk.”

“What is there to say? You wanted to marry her. You went to Venice with Army Barbie! You asked her! I’m pregnant and you don’t even bring it up!” she said, weeping. “Get Jane. I don’t want to see you right now.”

“Fuck,” Brock murmured. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

 

He went into the kitchen to call Jane, then thought better of it. He grabbed one of his tools and stalked back into the bedroom.

 

He was taking the lock off the door when she heard him. “Is Jane coming?” Darcy asked.

“Nope,” he said. “We’re going to talk and if you’re still upset, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“I want Jane,” she insisted, sniffling, when he opened the door.

“Married women don’t get to run off to Jane’s,” he said. “We haven’t talked this out. If you want to be married, talk to me.”

“No,” Darcy said petulantly. “I don’t want to be married anymore.”

“No?” he said.

“I’m over it,” she said sharply. “It was a momentary lapse, thinking you might want to, too.” Her voice was bitter.

“I want to marry you,” he said. “Come to bed, the bathroom is too cold.”

 

They lay in the dark. She didn’t want to talk, even after he’d apologized. Darcy turned her back to him. Brock found himself getting frustrated. She’d ambushed him! During sex, goddammit. Sure, he’d proposed to Frankie in Venice. But that had been after months of Frankie bringing it up, applying pressure, and telling him the kind of proposal and wedding she’d wanted _after_ he’d made vacation plans. Frankie hadn’t been subtle. But he hadn’t had a clue that Darcy was even interested in getting married. Of course, he wanted to get married, once he’d had two seconds to process.

 

By morning it was frustration laced with anxiety. It was Tuesday. Her father arrived Thursday. Who knew what kind of a shistorm the old man would kick up if Darcy felt like he was neglecting her? What if Darcy’s father leaned on her to go home? She was still cold shouldering him. He knew she was awake, but she wouldn’t look at him. He got up and made coffee. Then he brought her a mug of decaf. “ _Zuccherina,”_ he said, “do you wanna go ring shopping tonight?” She opened her eyes and looked at him.

“Are you serious?” Darcy asked.

“Yeah,” he said. He stroked her hair. “It’ll be fun.”

“I don’t know,” Darcy said. “I’m tired.” She rolled over.

“Are you pouting?” Brock asked, rubbing her back.

“Maybe,” Darcy grumbled. “I’m not happy all the time. Sometimes, I pout.”

“If you skip out on me, you get what I pick out,” he said teasingly. “Even if you hate it. Even if it’s the worst ring you’ve ever seen.”

“Shut up,” Darcy muttered, sounding more like herself. “What did you get Army Barbie?”

“Nothing,” he said, “I borrowed a ring from Ma. She offered to send it to me for you, but I think it’s jinxed. I want you to have exactly what you want, too. What you’d pick out for yourself.”

“Oh,” Darcy said.

“So, help me, huh?” Brock said. “We’ll go somewhere tonight, look around?”

“No,” she said, “it’s okay. We don’t have to rush this. It’s not like everybody doesn’t know I’m pregnant, anyway. Let’s wait.”

“Last night you wanted to get married, today you want to wait on a ring?” he said, feeling like he really was on an emotional rollercoaster.

“This week is going to be crazy,” Darcy said, sounding oddly flat and resigned. “Daddy will be here on Thursday. It’s probably stress-related marriage anxiety. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Sweetheart,” he began, but she shook her head.

“Don’t worry about it,” Darcy told him. “It’s not a big deal. I just need to get through this week.”

 

He repressed a sigh. He didn’t know what the fuck to do. “Tell me when you feel like it, okay?” he asked. “We’ll go.” She nodded and drank her coffee.

 

***

“What’s wrong?” Jane said, when Brock left Darcy in the lab that morning. Darcy looked unhappy.

“I told him I wanted to get married,” she said.

“Oh,” Jane said. “Did it not go well?”

“I probably shouldn’t have asked during sex,” Darcy said.

“Oh, no,” Jane said. “What did he do?”

“Got a look on his face like I’d just offered him adult incontinence products,” Darcy said. “Totally choked. I hid in the bathroom and cried and he’s been trying to convince me to go look at rings as some sort of soothing mechanism. Placate the crazy pregnant lady by letting her pick out something sparkly.”

“What do you mean?” Jane said.

“It’s a panic ring. Like a panic room, but in jewelry form. He panicked when I pointed out that he wanted to marry Army Barbie, planned out a whole proposal on a romantic trip to Italy, but he doesn’t want to marry me, obviously,” Darcy said. “Because it would have occurred to him to ask when we found out we were having the baby. I’ve been sitting here all morning, wondering why I gave up my lease. I have this gut feeling that we’re going to end up apart, Jane. He’ll be a great dad and the blonde he actually marries will probably be an excellent stepmother with superior physical fitness. ”

“Oh, Darce,” Jane said sadly.

“I feel like I could puke,” Darcy said. “I’m pukey and my pants are too tight.”  

 

A few minutes later, she did just that. Leaning over the toilet in the ladies’ room, Darcy wondered what she should do with her damn life. She asked Jane when she got back to the lab. “What should I do with my life?” she asked.

“Talk to Brock?” Jane offered. “I really thought he’d want to get married.”

“Pffffht,” Darcy scoffed. “Will you go shopping with me, I want preggo pants?”

 

Instead of going home with Brock as normal, she begged off on a shopping trip with Jane and bought her first pair of maternity pants. They were comfortable, at least. She made sure to come home late, said she was tired, had already eaten, and went directly to bed. Brock didn’t say much and Darcy had no clue what she was supposed to say. She knew she wanted to make it through her father’s visit without fighting. Darcy decided to keep her mouth shut about weddings and marriage for the time being. Just pretend everything was fine for 48 hours or whatever.

***

 

She was so exhausted, it felt like Darcy had only been asleep for a minute when he woke her up with coffee. “Hmmmm,” Darcy said, ”I wish this had caffeine. I need caffeine to live.” He chuckled and kissed her forehead. She fumbled for her glasses and realized he was grinning at her. “What?” she said, patting the tendrils of her hair. “Do I look crazy? What time is it?”

“Six-fifteen,” he said. Darcy groaned.

“I hate that I know there’s another six in the day now that we live together,” she said. “How so you get so early and not murder any---nevermind, they give you guns at work.” He laughed.

“I’ve been ring shopping,” he said, reaching for his tablet, “tell me what you think of these?” She sat up.

“You’ve been ring shopping?” she said, stunned.

“Online, yeah. I’ve picked out a few, but if you don’t like them or think they’re nice enough--”

“Oh my God,” Darcy said at out loud, staring at the tablet screen. The rings he’d put in his shopping cart were huge with ornate settings. Major bling. “These are huge and fancy! I’m not Liz Taylor!” she told him, laughing. “How can you afford this?”

“I think you’re cuter,” he said, mussing her hair. “Besides, I’m not broke, do you know much three months of salary is for a fifty year old single man with no dependents and lots of overtime hours?” he said.

“You’re a federal employee,” she said. “And we’ll have baby expenses soon, too.”

“Are you suggesting you this is too expensive for you?” he said, pointing to the screen. “This one’s my favorite.”

“That ring has a ring underneath it!” she said. “Did it phone a friend?”

“It’s Italian, we like to go all out,” he said. “What were you thinking?”

“Something...delicate,” she said, “can I build my own and show you?”

“Yeah, yeah, get started, I’ll get you more decaf,” he said.

“Are you actually excited to spend this much money?” Darcy said, befuddled. She’d grown accustomed to the idea that not spending too much money was something to be excited over, like when she and Jane had found machinery parts they could rehab for equipment in the trash outside Radio Shack or something. Or that time they’d made a small grant last for eight months. Spending lots of money meant you were caught in a jam somehow and had to pay your way out.

“I’m thrilled,” he said, sounding sincere. “Fucking thrilled. You gotta pick out what you want before Ma finds out, though or she’ll start sending you suggestions. Ma loves diamonds,” he said, as he went into the kitchen. Darcy stared after him for a second, then got started on her ring.

“What are you looking at?” Brock said, some ten minutes later. He kept trying to look over her shoulder, so she hid the tablet.

“I want it to be pretty and feminine, but look antique,” she told him. “Plus, I have small hands, Brock. My middle finger is only like a five, five and a half, so I think the last ring I bought to wear on my right ring finger, I had to get one of those adjustable sizing bands to go inside, because they didn’t make a standard size small enough. They said I was a 4 and something.”

“Yeah,” he said, stealing her right hand to look at it. “You do have tiny hands. I never noticed before.” He rubbed her fingers.

“So, even a small ring will look big on my hand, okay?” she told him.

“Why do I feel like you think I won’t like this?” he asked, propping himself up smile at her. “Show it to me?”

“Okay,” Darcy said. “I like baguettes and pave set bands that look antique. So, I like this one with a marquise-shaped stone. I think this is it,” she told him. “But I think we could make it a one-third-carat if you think that half-carat diamond is too large and it would still be pretty?” She clicked to change the diamond size. “See? The one-third carat is recycled and only $700.”

“It’s not even a carat?” he said, sounding horrified. “Baby, this ring is too small. It needs to at least be a carat.”

“Why?” Darcy said.

“Do you know how cheap I’ll look if you’re pregnant and walking around with a little chip on your hand?” he said. “That’s not even one month’s salary, Christ.”

“But it’s pretty!” she insisted. “It’s old-fashioned. People didn’t use to have these big rings.”

 _“Zuccherina,_ that is a ring you buy when you are twenty-two. I can do better,” he said.

“But why not put that money away for the baby?” she said. “I mean, I don’t need a really expensive ring, I--just, uhhh, oh God,” she said.

“What?” he said.

“I want you to care,” she said softly. “The amount of money doesn’t matter as long as you really care, okay?”

“I care,” he said. He looked at the screen. “Okay, I admit, it does look old-fashioned. My nonna’s ring was probably that size, but she had two or three good pieces of jewelry in her whole life, sweetheart, they didn’t have a lot of nice things. They were working-class people.”

“Two thousand dollars is hardly broke, it's a lot of money,” Darcy pointed out. He muttered things she didn’t understand in Italian. “What?” she said.

“If this is what you really want, I’ll do it, but at least look at some bigger things with me. Let’s go to a store, look at the Verragios in person, okay?” he said.

 

***

 

They picked her father up at the airport on Thursday afternoon. Darcy felt a wave of emotion when she saw her daddy standing on the sidewalk in a blazer, plaid shirt, khakis, and his battered UNC baseball cap. She’d always bought them for him as gifts. It was something they’d started when she was little and he’d gotten her to watch the games--she’d insisted on buying him a hat once with an advance on her Christmas money. He’d never made her pay up. “Daddy,” she said, hopping out of the car to embrace him, “you need a new Tar Heels hat.”

“I’ve been waiting on you to visit so we can see a game,” he said in his quiet, slow voice, hugging her back. “Can’t get a new one without my girl. Tar--”

“Heels!” Darcy said automaticaly. It was one of the game chants. He drew back to look at her, smiling a little so the corners of his eyes crinkled.

“You aren’t showing yet,” he said.

“No,” Darcy said. “It’s still early.”

“Mr. Lewis,” Brock said from behind her. That surprised Darcy. She hadn’t expected him to get out of the car.

“This is him?” he said, looking at Brock wryly. “Mr. Rumlow?”

“Yes,” Darcy said, reaching out to hold Brock’s elbow while he shook her father’s hand.

“Sir,” Brock said, “it’s nice to meet you. Please call me Brock.”

“You’re a little older than I expected,” her father said. Darcy could have sworn his blue eyes twinkled. “He’s not older than me, is he?” he asked Darcy dryly.

“No,” she said. “Daddy, cut it out. Get in the car.”

“Well, you keep a clean vehicle, Brock,” he said, climbing into the car. “I suppose that’s a point in your favor. Her car’s always full of coffee mugs, notepads, and umbrellas.”

“All very useful things,” Darcy said, grinning. “I keep telling you. One day, you’ll need coffee, an umbrella, or paper, and you can call me.”

“Butterbean, you gotta live closer to me for that to work right,” her daddy said.

 

Dinner went reasonably well, Darcy thought. Her dad was doing his signature small town lawyer thing, where he would say something quietly and slowly that was actually a little barbed. “You’re from New York, huh?” he said to Brock.

“Yes,” Brock said. “The Bronx.”

“Like Jennifer Lopez, Daddy,” Darcy supplied.

“Pretty girl,” her father said. “I seem to remember that your mama liked that movie she did with Jane Fonda,” he told Darcy. That was his idea of a dry joke: the movie had been about a terrible mother-in-law, so Daddy was nodding to the animosity between his ex-wife and his mother. She could tell Brock had missed the subtext, though. “We get some New Yorkers back home,” he said to Brock.

“Really?” Brock said.

 _Oh, no. Don’t fall for it,_ Darcy thought. Her father looked sly, she thought.

“Retirees, mostly. Nice folks, but they’re always complaining we take too long, that we don’t hustle enough, try to hurry us along,” Beau said. “Always wanting us to get things done faster than we’re used to--” He paused.

“Yes, sir,” Brock said.

“Oh, you don’t need to tell me son, I’ve got the evidence of your hustle right there,” he said, gesturing to Darcy. “I’m getting a grandchild and there hasn’t even been a wedding yet. We usually do things in a different order back home.”

“Daddy, stop that,” she told him. “Stop hazin’ him.”

“See how she drops her gs when I come to town? Does she do that around her mother?” he asked.

“Not on the phone,” Brock said. “Liz has a different accent?”

“Liz is from Raleigh,” Beau said. “I gather she found out before I did?”

“Not that long ago,” Darcy said defensively.

“Am I so scary that nobody wants to tell me that my first grandchild’s arriving?” he said. “You hurt my feelings, Butterbean. You think I’m not looking forward to grandchildren?”

 

***

Darcy’s father hated him, Brock realized. He’d known it from the first moment that Beau Lewis called him “son.” It was laced with a kind of baffling sarcasm--so subtle that it was hard to be sure you’d been hit until you felt the sting. The man was a goddamned jellyfish. He kept circling Brock at dinner, asking all kinds of questions that felt like insults. “So,” Beau Lewis said slowly, “what kind of work do you do at SHIELD?”

“I run STRIKE Alpha, the leading tactical unit,” Brock said.

“He works directly with Steve, coordinating missions,” Darcy told her father, “he’s like Steve’s second-in-command.” Normally, that was enough to impress somebody. Not Beau Lewis. He cut his steak and looked at Brock like he could see right through him: see how old he was, how ill-prepared for fatherhood, that he couldn’t even get Darcy to shop for respectable-sized engagement rings with him.

“Impressive,” Beau said. “Dangerous work, then?”

“He jumps out of planes,” Darcy said. “It’s astonishing stuff.”

“He jumps out of planes,” Beau repeated.

“Not for much longer,” Brock said, hearing the critique in his voice. “I’m transferring to new agent training, full-time, to be home every night. For the baby.”

“Well, you must stay in pretty good shape to do that kind of work at your age. I wonder when Captain Rogers will settle down with somebody?” Beau said. Casually. Too casually. “Doesn’t he like kids?” he said.

“He loves them. Steve’s very excited to be an honorary uncle,” Darcy said. “He sends me baby names almost every day.”

“I bet he’ll make a really good father one day, don’t you, son?” Beau said to Brock. “But he’s got plenty of time.”

“Yes, sir,” Brock said, trying not to show his flinch at another age dig. “I’m sure he will.”

 

Then her father segued into anecdotes about Darcy’s childhood that seemed subtly designed to either make Brock afraid of being a father or to make him feel excluded from the conversation. “Parenthood is difficult work,” he said slowly. “But it’s rewarding, too. Not everybody understands that. All the tough work is in the beginning--”

“He’s about to tell you a story about me having colic while he studied for the bar exam,” Darcy said. “Apparently, I screamed like a tiny banshee and the neighbors complained.”

“She had colic as a baby and bronchitis in the winter. Poor little thing cried and cried. She was so small, that's why we called her Butterbean."

"What is a butterbean?" Brock asked.

"Lima bean," Darcy explained.

"But once me and your mama got you to three or four, you were as healthy as a horse. Didn’t even need braces. Those are her natural teeth--” Beau said.

“Daddy!” Darcy said, “I don’t know why you think that’s worth bragging over.”

“People pay thousands of dollars for teeth that pretty and she doesn’t appreciate hers at all,” Beau said, chuckling.

“I brush ‘em!” Darcy said. It was clearly an inside joke. Brock chuckled, playing along, and wondered why the hell Darcy’s father looked at him with such cold eyes behind the laughter.

 

He figured it out when Darcy had gone to the bathroom. Beau speared a piece of steak and looked at Brock. “What will it take?” he asked.

“I’m sorry?” Brock said. “Sir?”

“How much money will I have to give you to get out of my daughter and my grandchild’s life?” he asked. “Ten-thousand? Twenty thousand? I’ve got the paperwork to relinquish parental rights all drawn up. You sign them, I’ll cut you a check tonight.” He reached into his blazer pocket and retrieved a white envelope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was envisioning Beau Bridges as Darcy's dad as I wrote this, but will also accept Bruce Willis because he and Frank Grillo have this great scene in Reprisal where Willis needles/trolls him to get him to describe details a robbery he witnessed in this very slow, casual way and it was my favorite scene in the whole film.
> 
> My headcanon for Brock is that he's drawn to Verragio rings---very ornate, very drool-worthy--Verragio is a New York-educated designer with an Italian name, so plus. They're like rings-within-rings: https://www.instagram.com/p/BtwsiljBZ0n/
> 
> Whereas, Darcy's taste in rings is much more low-key, because she's been raised in an atmosphere that would frown on conspicuous consumption--her mom isn't into fashion and her father always downplays his wealth--and has often just been scraping by, so this is her self-designed ring:  
> https://yespumpkindoodlesthings.tumblr.com/image/182807642243
> 
> I hope that link works! Also, I just really love marquise-cut diamonds. I feel like they're ripe for a revival at the moment and they have tons of style, even if they aren't in fashion.
> 
>  


	10. Everything Has A Price

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Happy Valentine's Day!

When the words registered, Brock felt rage. For a minute, the edges of his vision had gone red and his right hand had clenched slightly, telltale signs he wanted to hit someone. The last time he’d been this angry, he’d been a stupid teenager who liked to fight. But he had better control now, he thought, reminding himself that _it wasn’t personal._ Beau wanted to guilt Darcy into compliance, so either bribing him into leaving her or provoking Brock into violence would serve his purposes. The very last thing Brock needed to do was to beat up her father. Right that second, Beau was coolly assessing him. Brock swallowed and forced his hands--under the table--to stop shaking before he spoke. “You’ve got paperwork, huh? Let me see that?” he asked holding out his palm. His hand was very still.

“It’s all very straightforward,” Beau said, clearing his throat and handing him the paperwork. Brock unfolded it. “You can cash the check immediately and you wouldn’t be obligated to pay child support or have any contact with the child,” Beau said.

“Uh-huh,” Brock said dryly. He looked up at Beau. “You want me gone, huh? That’s too bad,” he said.  Brock slowly tore the paper in half. “I thought I had made myself clear on the phone. I’ll make sure to say it slowly this time, so you understand: this is my child. I’m not going anywhere. I’m marrying your daughter. You’re going to see me at Thanksgiving and Christmas for the rest of your fucking life, old man,” he said, smiling slowly. He handed the torn paperwork back to Beau. The other man gazed down at the shreds of paper and then tucked them back in his jacket.

“Fifty thousand,” Beau said calmly.

“You must be out of your fucking mind,” Brock said.

“Sixty thousand,” Beau said. Brock laughed.

“You can keep your money,” Brock told him. “And keep your fucking mouth shut, she’s coming back to the table and I don’t want her upset.” A smiling Darcy had emerged from the bathroom, stopped to compliment a woman’s scarf, and was headed towards them.

“Uhhh, sorry,” she said. “I have to pee so much! Did Mom have to pee this much?” she asked her father. “Between the morning sickness and the peeing, it’s like a constant struggle to make it to and from the bathroom.”

“I remember your mom having a lot of morning sickness,” Beau said. “Had it her whole pregnancy.”

“Ugh, Daddy, don’t tell me that. Lie to me and say it’ll be over soon! What are y’all talking about?” Darcy asked.

“Nothing important. Certainly not more important than your morning sickness. Do you want some dessert? They have chocolate cake,” Brock asked her, reaching over to take her hand. “It helps when she eats,” Brock said, giving his future father-in-law a look that he hoped communicated _play along, you fucking bumpkin_. Darcy beamed at him. She was happy, he thought. She loved her shitty excuse for a father. He wasn’t going to tell her about this conversation if he could help it. It would only make her sad and distressed, be bad for her and the baby.

“Her mother was the same way,” Beau said.

“Okay, if you keep saying that, I’m definitely having cake. I deserve cake if I have months of projectile puking left,” Darcy said, laughing. “Has he told you about the ring debate we’re having?” she said to Beau.

“Ring debate?” he father said, tilting his head.

“I did mention that we’re getting married,” Brock interjected smoothly. Darcy brightened and stroked Brock’s hair, pushing back a strand.

“He thinks the engagement ring I picked out online is too little, Daddy,” Darcy said, laughing. “He’s trying to spoil me with some big fancy bling,” she said. Brock smirked at Beau.

“I just want her to have everything she deserves,” he said. “And maybe two or three kids with good Italian names.” He rubbed her arm.

“We’re debating rings _and_ baby names,” Darcy said. Brock waved over a waiter.

“Can we get the double chocolate cake and two decaf coffees? Beau, would you like anything?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t mind a coffee,” he said.

“Oh, I’d like cream, too. Cream and sugar,” Darcy said to the waiter.

 

Brock made Darcy wait inside where it was warm while he got the car. Beau was standing on the sidewalk when he pulled the car around. He walked over to the driver’s side and leaned in. “One-hundred thousand,” Beau said in a low voice.

“Fuck you very much,” Brock said, pasting on a big smile.

“One-hundred and twenty,” Beau said, straightening up  with a smile as Darcy came bouncing out.

“All of your grandchildren are going to have a father from _New York_ ,” Brock said in a low voice, smirking. “They’re going to be half-Italian and loud and full of hustle, asshole.”

“You are just determined to vex me,” Beau said in a low murmur. “But everybody has a price, son. I’ve never met a man who didn’t have a price.”

 

***

 

“Well, that went okay,” Darcy said, after they’d dropped her father off at a hotel. “I’m sorry he was being such a freaking lawyer tonight. He does folksy and low-key passive-aggressive really well. I know it’s a lot to deal with.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Brock said.

“You’re really good at it,” she told him. “I was impressed. He used to get poor Ian so flustered. And he does it in this way that’s really difficult to pin down, so he can play innocent later--” she began.

“Like a jellyfish,” Brock said, sounding wry. “You think he’s just drifting by and he stings the fuck out of you.” Brock chuckled.

“Yes! Yes, that’s it! Exactly. You’re a genius. That’s the perfect description. He knows what he’s doing,” she grumbled, re-wrapping her scarf. She looked around. “This isn’t the way home?” she said, puzzled.

“Oh, I thought it was early enough that we could run an errand,” he said to her.

“What are you planning?” Darcy said, smiling at him.

“A fun trip,” Brock said. He took her to a jewelry store. Opening the door, he ushered her inside and leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Marry me?” he said. Darcy’s heart skipped a beat.

“Really?” she said, beaming.

“Absolutely,” he said. “Look at some of these, tell me what you think?”

“Okay,” she said, swallowing nervously. “I don’t want to pressure you, though--” she said, as they walked towards the engagement rings. He held her hand.

“Would you like to elope to Italy?” he said. “Or someplace warm? My mother will want a big church wedding, but it would be nice for it to be just us.”

“That _does_ sound nice,” she said. “No family weirdness, no guests you don’t want…”

“My thoughts exactly. We’re looking at engagement rings,” Brock told the salesperson behind the counter.

 

Everything seemed so expensive and elaborate to Darcy. She peered at all the glass cases. It was really difficult to narrow anything down, she thought. So many choices! Everything Brock liked was appallingly expensive to her. When he’d picked out one that he really thought was beautiful and priced the diamond he liked, she stared at him. “No way. I can’t just walk around with a twelve-thousand dollar ring!” Darcy said. “That’s crazy. My Civic didn’t cost that much.”

“It didn’t?” he said.

“Well, I didn’t _finance_ that much. It was used. I put down fifteen hundred so I’d only need to finance ten thousand…” she said. She’d just always bought used cars from a dealership in Greenville that kept cars that were a year or two old, to save on depreciation. Her mother had always said a new car was an ego trip, anyway. She couldn’t imagine spending that much on a _ring._ “What if I lose it?” Darcy said to Brock, horrified. He laughed at her.

“Please tell my mother this story,” he said. “She’ll think you’re an alien.” The salespeople kept looking at her like she was insane, too. They ended up going to more than one jewelry store.

 

***

 

She was walking down a different row of rings at their third, less expensive place, her fingers entwined with Brock’s, when she stopped. “These are different,” she said. There was a tray of blush-colored rings: peaches, pinks, soft roses. Blush pink was one of her favorite colors. Also, her favorite wine. Hence, the Darcy rosé back home.

“These are morganite,” the salesperson helping them said, again fixing Darcy with another _are you an alien?_ look.

“I love this one,” Darcy said, staring at a white gold ring with a peachy pink stone in the center. The band looked almost identical the vintage-look one she’d picked out for herself online, but the center oval stone was ringed with two rows of small diamonds: one set in rose gold and the second in white. “It sort of matches my Valentine’s Day present with the rose gold,” she said. “What do you think?” She looked at Brock.

“It’s pretty, sweetheart, but even cheaper than that little chip ring,” he said, looking at the price tag. “How did you find something even cheaper?” He looked at her wryly. “Do you have a gift or something?”

“Really? But it’s so big and sparkly!” Darcy said, surprised. She’d assumed it would be pretty expensive, too.

"We're having a sale," the salesperson said.

“What is morganite?” he asked the salesperson.

“It’s a beryl, like emerald,” the salesperson said, “named for JP Morgan, who collected gems. It’s very popular in engagement rings as a less expensive alternative to pink diamonds or sapphires.”

“I like it,” Darcy said. “Can I try it on?”

“Yes,” the salesperson said. Darcy slipped it on her finger and smiled.

“I love this color,” she said, sighing. “I feel like J. Lo!”

“J. Lo?” Brock said.

“You don’t remember? Ben Affleck bought her a pink diamond, that was when everyone realized rings could be pink,” she said, tilting her hand back and forth. He grinned at her, but then frowned, as he looked at her finger.

“Did they ever actually get married?” he said.

“Ummmm, nope. You don’t think that’s a bad omen, do you?” she asked.

“No. Do you realize that ring sort of matches your wine?” he said. The salesperson stared at them.

“Yeah, isn’t it great?” she said. “I could have a whole life theme and it’s champagne pink! What do you think?” Darcy asked him. She sensed he wasn’t thrilled.

“If that’s what you want, _zuccherina?”_ he asked. “You don’t have to decide tonight.”

“Do you hate it?” Darcy asked Brock. He sighed and made one of his _eh_ faces.

“Please don’t make me answer that,” he said.

“What would you pick for me? Wait, no, I have a stipulation: what would you pick for me that is less expensive than my car?” He laughed.

“Let me look, lawyer’s daughter,” he said. “You like vintage look ones, right?”

“Yes,” Darcy said.

 

A few minutes later, he came back with a stunning-looking diamond. “This one,” he said. “I’d pick this one.”

“Oh, wow. Is that antique? It looks like something from the 1930s,” Darcy said.

“No, it’s new,” the salesperson said.

“How much?” Darcy said.

“Six-three,” he said.

“So, half a car,” she said, “on my finger?”

“These are really nice, though?” he said, gesturing to the diamonds flanking the center stone. “What are they called?”

“Baguettes,” the salesperson said.

“It is beautiful,” Darcy admitted.

“You decide, _zuccherina,”_ he said.

“I’m torn,” Darcy said, looking between the morganite and the one he’d chosen. His was prettier, she realized. It made the morganite look less special.

“Do you have anything else that looks vintage like that?” Brock said.

“That’s less expensive than half a car,” Darcy said. The salesperson brought them a tray.

 

***

 

“You’re really happy with that?” he said later, when they were at home. They were hanging out around his kitchen island. She’d picked a vintage-look ring that was less expensive than his choice, but almost as beautiful. It had filigree designs. Darcy thought Brock was a little sad about it, though. He’d wanted the half a car ring. The man was just all fancy and sophisticated naturally. He must get it from his mother.

“I love it! I can’t believe they had my size in stock and everything,” Darcy said, “besides it looks all blingy on my finger.” She couldn’t stop staring at it. He was trying the Darcy rosé to celebrate their official engagement. They’d been joking about it all the way home, when she wasn’t staring at her hand.

“This wine isn’t terrible,” he admitted teasingly.

“He tried to make it taste like my favorite six-dollar white zinfandel, bless his heart, because they replaced it with moscato and I was sad about it. Thank you for getting along with my Daddy, I know he’s not an easy person,” Darcy said. “I tell myself he means well, even if I have no clue what he’s thinking most of the time.”

“Uh-huh,” Brock said. “What kind of ring did he buy your mom?”

“Ummm,” Darcy said. “It was pretty simple, yellow gold band with a diamond solitaire. She’s not that into jewelry, honestly. It was very 1980s. I wonder if mine will seem like that one day? Like someone will look at it and go, _oh, that’s a 2019 ring,_ you know?” She gazed down at her finger.

“No. The pink one would have looked dated, yes, but not that ring,” Brock said, sipping the wine. He looked down at his glass. “I’m drinking wine named for my future wife.” Darcy thought he sounded amused.

“It really makes me feel like Sofia Coppola sometimes,” she said. “We both have a pink wine named after us from our dads. It’s the only thing we have in common, since I’m not famous and artistic.”

“Right now,” he said, “in a little bit, I’ll give you a big Italian family, so you’ll have two things in common.”

“How big?” Darcy said nervously. “Please don’t tell me you want eight children or something?”

“Nah,” he said, “how about five?”

“Shut up, that is terrifying. Don’t joke like that. Do you realize my grandfather on my mom’s side was one of fifteen kids? Fifteen! And they all lived to adulthood, so I have a photo of all the kids, plus my great-grandparents. They look _so_ tired. I cannot give up caffeine and wine for that much of my life, it’ll kill me. Or I’ll kill somebody,” Darcy said.

“I bet you’d be great at it,” he told her, looking pleased.

“You realize you’d be the leading candidate for homicide, right? If I killed anybody, it would probably be you, because you keep impregnating me,” she said. He moved around the kitchen island and hugged her, planting a kiss on her forehead. “That tickles!” Darcy said. His stubble rubbed the side of her face.

“We just got engaged tonight and you’re already talking about killing me, I feel very married,” he said, kissing her neck. “I’m going to have more of my wife wine and take you to bed. Unless you’d like a bath?” He moved over to the wine bottle.

“I’d love one,” she said dreamily. She got off the barstool.

“What are you doing?” he said, pausing from where he’d refilled his wine.

“Taking off my pants,” she said, grinning.

 

“This has been the best night. You got along with my dad enough not to run away screaming, I had chocolate cake, my ring is beautiful and I still love your bathtub. How are you so perfect again?” Darcy asked him, once they were in the tub.

“I’m perfect?” Brock said dryly. He’d tried not tense when she mentioned her father. She was draped against him in the tub, distractingly plush and glowy. He was already hard, but he thought tub sex might be slippery and dangerous in her condition. He’d wait until they were in bed.

“Other than the way you laughed at me when I put my ring in the box because I didn’t want to get bubbles on it and your insistence that the temperature of this tub not exceed 100 degrees?” Darcy said.

“It was hilarious when you stuck your hand in the water and shrieked _my ring_ like your hand was melting,” he said.

“Phffft,” Darcy said, sticking out her tongue. “It’s the fanciest thing I’ve ever owned.”

“You could have laughed a little less when I used the thermometer to check the water temperature,” he said, sounding offended. “I’m only trying to protect our child.” He rubbed between her shoulder blades.

“I laughed because it was one of your kitchen gadgets, okay? That made it funny. It’s crazy that the baby could get what is basically Jacuzzi fever from _warm water._ My body is way less enclosed than I thought it was. Stuff just be getting all up in there. Oooooh, that feels so good. I’m so going to jump your bones when we get out of this tepid bathtub,” she told him, leaning into his touch. “Hey, guess what Jane texted me today as a cheer-up thing because Daddy was here?”

“What?” he said.

“Since the baby is the size of a fig now, we’ve been calling him Fig Rumlow. Fig is fruit and cake!” she said. “Little Figgy. Vinnie Figerino. Or Figga, if it’s a her baby. Figalina Ballerina.”

“Vinnie Figerino?” Brock said, snorting.

“I hope he has your good hair and pretty eyes,” Darcy said, leaning back. “Oh em gee, did that just get a rise out of you?” she said, sitting up and peering at his erection.

“No, that happened when you took your clothes off in the kitchen,” he said. “You were just distracted by all the bubbles.”

“I love baths,” Darcy said happily. She scrunched her nose. “You still think I’m hot, even if my underwear doesn’t match my bra?”

 _“Zuccherina,_ there is not a man alive who cares if a woman’s underwear matches when she starts taking it off,” he said, splashing her gently.

“I love you, too,” she told him.

“Please, I know you’re only with me for this tub,” he joked. She half-turned, slid her arms around his neck, and kissed him intensely.

 

Darcy thought it was sweet that Brock was insistent they move to the safety of the bed, rather than have sex in the bathtub. “You’re amazing,” she told him, stroking his abs as he climbed on top of her.

“I love you,” he told her. “Nothing will keep me from trying to make you happy and raising our child, okay?” he said. “All the money in the world and I’d never leave you.” Darcy looked at him. Really looked. They locked eyes for a moment. Brock had an unfathomable expression on his face. The truth hit Darcy like a ton of bricks.

“Brock?” she said.

“Yeah?” he said, leaning down to kiss her chest.

“What did my father offer you?” she said. “He offered you money to disappear, didn’t he?” She sighed. “I can’t believe he did that _again.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pick your favorite!
> 
> Brock's idea of a good ring: https://www.kay.com/en/kaystore/r6-rings-101488--1/neil-lane-diamond-engagement-ring-1-1-2-ct-tw-14k-white-gold-992662407--1
> 
> The one Darcy finally picks: https://www.kay.com/en/kaystore/neil-lane-diamond-engagement-ring-7-8-ct-tw-14k-white-gold-992664805--1
> 
> IRL photo of both rings (his favorite ring is the top ring, pinky finger; Darcy's compromise ring is the bottom ring, middle finger): https://www.instagram.com/p/BgmDSUXB53C/?utm_source=ig_web_button_share_sheet
> 
>  


	11. Papa Don't Preach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Y'all are fantastic! I appreciate the sweet messages I'm getting on tumblr, too. I'm trying to follow everyone back, but my tumblr-fu is still in it's toddler phase, if that. Find me at: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/yespumpkindoodlesthings

“He’s done this before?” Brock said, stunned. He half-rolled off her to lay on his side and look at her face.

“Ummm, when I was a baby nerd, he gave poor Gus extra cash to take me to a dance once. Gus was super-popular in school and I wasn’t, so I think that’s how it all started? Daddy got the idea that we’d make _the perfect couple,_ you know?” Darcy said.

“I’m really starting to hate Gus,” Brock muttered, looking half over his shoulder defensively.

“Babe, don’t hate on Gus, Gus is in worse shape than me,” Darcy said, rubbing his chest and belly in long, soft strokes. Brock looked down at her hand and grinned. “Partially because he’s too decent and kind for his own good and I think he actually thinks of Daddy as second father,” she said, sighing.

“Explain that to me?” Brock said.

“I practically ran away as soon as I could, but Gus can’t tell Daddy to bite his ass because Daddy is _his_ dad’s boss,” Darcy said, tracing her fingers over Brock’s body. “Somehow, he’s managed to dig himself deeper because Daddy keeps giving him opportunities on the farm and he can’t imagine quitting now, giving up his nice salary and the good house my father lets him rent.”

“Are you saying your father is his landlord, his boss, and his father’s boss?” Brock said.

“Yes,” Darcy said, sighing. “And several of his cousins work for my father, too. Plus, he actually wants Daddy to approve of him, you know? If Daddy would stop trying to marry us, Gus would still be his perfect employee. The best thing that could happen to him would be me marrying you--” Darcy was saying, when Brock leaned over to kiss her.

“Let’s give him the best news of his life, then, huh?” he said.

“Yes, absolutely,” Darcy said, kissing him back. He sucked on her bottom lip and Darcy leaned into him. A thought seemingly occurred to her when they’d paused for a second. “Poor Gus, you know, I helped him sneak-date Crystal Jones in high school and lie and say he was taking me out,” Darcy mused, “but we always split the date money my Daddy gave him, so I had extra spending money.”

“Jesus, he’s been paying this kid to date you since you were teenagers?” Brock said. Darcy scrunched her nose.

“Sorta? Ironically, it made us better friends because we had to coordinate our lies and split the loot. Gus is so nice, he actually wanted me to get 60% of the date money. Then I went away to college and Daddy freaked when I started working for Jane and became Thor-adjacent. That’s when he ramped up the crazy. He successfully bribed Ian before you--” Darcy said.

“Great,” Brock said sarcastically. “Your ex gave him encouragement?”

“Yup, he paid off Ian to dump me, thinking I’d come home and fall into Gus’s arms,” Darcy explained. “I couldn’t believe he’d offered Ian ten-thousand dollars! And Ian took it. Did he offer you that much?”

“A little more,” he told her, deciding not disclose. “He wanted me to relinquish parental custody, too.”

“Ugh, my father is such a schmuck. He knows you want to be involved! Why didn’t you say something?” Darcy said. “I would have yelled at him at the restaurant.”

“I know,” Brock said, stroking her face. “I’d rather you be happy, _zuccherina.”_

“You’re too good to me,” she told him. “Did he actually bring paperwork?”

“Yeah,” Brock said. “I tore it up at the table.” Darcy laughed joyfully.

“He won’t know how to handle that,” she said. “I can’t believe he drew up paperwork and offered you ten thousand dollars, too.” Catching his microexpression, she tilted her head. “What?” Darcy said.

“He started with ten,” Brock said. “I told him to keep his money. By the time I pulled the car around and told him to fuck off, he was at a hundred and twenty thousand.”

“Oh my God!” Darcy said. Her jaw dropped. “You turned him down?”

“Of course I did. You think I wouldn’t?” he said, cupping her chin and kissing the side of her face slowly. “I’m not giving up you or the baby,” he told her. He planted kisses all over her face.

“You’re not?” she said, smiling at him.

“No amount of money,” he said.

“You sure?” she said.

“Not all the money in the world,” he said.

“You know just what to say to a pregnant lady,” she said, smiling. She nuzzled his neck and then he held her for a minute. They traded teasing, soft kisses back and forth, until he spoke again.

“I’m going to fuck your brains out tonight, too, because I know that would bother him,” he said, parting her knees. He smiled down at her and licked his mouth instinctively. She was already flushed and glossy with arousal.

“Brock?” she said.

“Hmm?” he said, pulling his eyes back up to her face.

“You tore up the parental rights agreement?” Darcy said.

“Into shreds, yeah,” he said.

“So, there’s nothing for you to sign?” she said.

“What are you getting at?” he said, frowning.

“If my father offers you more money, I want you take his check, cash it immediately, and sign _nothing,”_ Darcy said. “We can keep that money for the baby. If you can, get him up to a hundred and fifty thousand.”

“You want to con your own father?” Brock said, incredulous.

“I want to snow the snowman, yes,” Darcy said, beaming up at him. “I think it would be so much fun.”

“Fun?” he said, raising both eyebrows.

“Technically, he owes me that amount in trust, which is what we’ll say if he kicks up a fuss. That I wanted my untapped trust funds for the Nugget. You’re good at acting, right?” she said.

“I was undercover alongside Pierce,” he said, slightly offended, “of course, I can act.”

“Good,” she said, grinning and looking delighted. “Can I get that sex now?” He smirked and slid down the bed, so he was eye-level with her mound of Venus.

“You know,” he said, pressing his tongue into her gently--she made a happy sound that he enjoyed very much before he looked up again--”I really thought all the drama would be from my family, not yours,” he said.

“Surprise!” Darcy said. He chuckled and dipped his head down again. “Oh, God, baby daddy, I’m so sorry I ever pouted at you,” she told him, as he started to roll his tongue in a slow, teasing manner. “So sorry,” she repeated, jerking slightly when he hummed against her in acknowledgement. She raked her fingers through his hair in circles. When he could tell she was on the verge of climax, he pulled away and she groaned. “That is a mean thing to do to a pregnant lady,” she complained.

“You’re too impatient,” he teased, moving to push himself inside her. She made another of those encouraging noises and and he kissed her.

“It’s so weird when you taste like me,” she said.

“I like the way you taste,” he told her teasingly, licking the side of her face.

“Ahhh! That is just wro--oh God,” she said, gasping. He’d put a little more snap into his hip movement.

“Please,” he said, “you love it.”

“I love you,” she told him.

 

After he’d reduced her to a quivering, weepy mess who clung to him, he smirked at her. “It would probably kill your father to know how much we fuck, wouldn’t it?” he asked.

“Mmm-hmmm,” she said. “Yes, it would. Ugh, it’s so unpretty when I cry-gasm. My mascara runs.”  He laughed at her. “What?” she said. “You’re looking all sneaky?”

“I’m thinking of ways to antagonize your father, starting with talking about our sex life in public,” Brock said.

“He’ll go crazy, he told my mom once that he thought people who liked to kiss their girlfriends’ feet were perverts,” she said.

“Huh,” he said, “good to know. I’ve never done anything with your toes, have I? They probably feel neglected…..”

“Ahhhhh!” She shrieked when he crawled under the covers.

“I haven’t done anything yet!” he said.

“I’m ticklish!” she called back.

 

***

 

“Her father is a total asshole,” Jane said to both of them on Friday morning, when they’d filled her in on the dinner-slash-bribery attempt.

“But do you feel like helping us?” Darcy asked.

“Of course I do,” Jane said loyally. “What can I do?”

“We need other people to come to dinner with us tonight,” Darcy told Jane. “So Brock can fleece him and he won’t suspect anything.”

“I need to be able to get him away from Darcy so we can talk money in a way that will look natural,” Brock said, grinning slowly. “Having a big crowd makes that easier.” Jane nodded and looked crafty.

“You should wear a really flashy suit, he’ll hate it, and possibly jewelry,” Jane said.

“He only wears navy suits, very sedate ones. Do you own a flashy suit? I think all your clothes might be too nice,” Darcy told him, scrunching her nose. She looked at Jane. “I can’t wait for you to be there, Brock is going to talk about our sex life to make him uncomfortable, distract him.”

“High five!” Jane said, offering a hand to Brock. “I wish that worked with Odin.”

“It doesn’t?” Brock said.

“Asgardians are totally _not_ phobic about sex. Or nudity,” Darcy said.

“Don’t tell me how you know that, all right?” Brock told her, leaning down to kiss Darcy. “I’m going to the gym, doing some training exercises with the guys.”

“Oooh, invite Jack and Gavin and Steve,” Darcy said.

 

The rest of Darcy’s afternoon went well, despite occasional moments of morning sickness. “You’re in a good mood,” Jane said.

“If I can get a big chunk of change out of Daddy for the Nugget, I think I’ll feel really good about the future,” Darcy said. “Then I can tell him to stick the farms where the sun don’t shine and not feel like I’m depriving my child.”

“Or children,” Jane commented. Brock had recapped the bit about all Beau’s grandchildren being half-Sicilian. Jane had almost rolled on the floor.

“Shhhh, I want to have this baby before I worry about having more,” Darcy said. “We should probably talk to the SHIELD physician about a sold post-baby birth control plan. I love this baby, but I’d want to space out a second one…..”

“You’re already thinking about it?” Jane said wryly.

“I always wanted a sister. Until I met you--,” Darcy said.

“Awwwww,” Jane said.

“--and you ate all my Pop Tarts and horrified me by wearing the same plaid shirt for four days straight,” Darcy added.

“I’m not going to get upset with you for that because you’re pregnant and”--Jane sniffed under her arm--”I probably should change this shirt, right?”

“Always, Jane. Whenever you have that impulse, change your shirt,” Darcy said, checking her email. “If you and Thor wanted to elope, where would you go?”

“Hawaii. He likes to surf and there’s an observatory there I’d want to check out,” Jane said. “Why? Are you eloping?”

“We’re talking about it. It would solve any crazy family drama, you know?” Darcy said.

“Uh-huh,” Jane said. “Also, your dad probably would kidnap Brock if you had it down on the farm and sub in Gus at the ceremony.” She made a noise that Darcy recognized as her banjo impression.

“Jane,” she said crankily, “I’m not actually from a hillbilly murder town, okay? And they have those everywhere. Even California! Did you watch that Netflix documentary I told you about?” she asked. Jane continued making banjo noises and Darcy scoffed. “You really should watch _Murder Mountain_ , I’m telling you. I need someone to talk about that one masked pot grower, Austin, with me before--fine, fine, make your banjo noises. Brock will watch it with me. He’ll listen to me talk about how much I think that kid is dumb and will probably end up dead,” Darcy said. Jane stopped doing banjo and grinned.

“That’s how I know he loves you, he’s not alarmed by the amount of murder TV that you watch,” Jane said. “It used to scare the shit out of Ian.”

 

***

 

“So,” Brock said to Jack as they observed the new trainees demo suspect restraints, “you feel like deploying your Australian trolling skills on Darcy’s father tonight?” A few feet ahead of them, two students were wrestling and swearing under Steve’s supervision.

“Language,” Steve said. The students murmured apologies. Jack sighed. He and Brock strolled over to the next group of students.

“Ease up, Collins, restraining Hirschbaum doesn’t mean cutting off his airway entirely,” Brock called out.

“Sorry!” Collins said.

“Thank you, Commander Rumlow!” Hirschbaum said, coughing slightly.

“I’m real sorry, mate,” Jack said. “You know I would help, but I’ve got plans. Me and Gavin have tickets for the ballet.” Brock started to laugh, then realized Jack was frowning.

“Are you fucking serious? You hate theater and shit,” Brock said, smirking.

“I love him, though,” Jack said. He shook his head. “I’m too tall for the bloody seats.” They circled the room. Brock blew his whistle and demo’d a hold for another small group, then moved back to walk and talk with Jack.

“What ballet?” Brock said.

“It’s something with swans,” Jack grumbled. “Bloody swans. Just giant, long-necked pigeons, them are. Ill-tempered. My aunt had a few, used to chase my cousin Shaz.”

 _“Swan Lake?”_ Brock said, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s the bloody one. How’d you know?” Jack asked.

“My sister took dance for five years. And I’m not uncultured, asshole. I know things. My Ma loves museums. Especially free ones,” Brock said. He studied a student’s hold, then nodded an okay. The student beamed and was promptly clobbered by his teammate. “Always watch your back!” Brock called.

“Yeah, yeah, I forgot you knocked up your baby mama and you’re so bloody cultured her father wants to bribe you to go ‘way, mate,” Jack said bitterly. He was thinking of two hours in a too-small velvet seat, feeling like he was all legs and elbows. The people next to him--other than Gavin, of course, who always smelled fantastic--would probably smell of onions. Or mildew. That seemed to be typical for uncomfortably close outings in DC.

“You’ve got a cousin called Shaz, I’m definitely more fucking cultured than you, pal. Italians invented culture,” Brock said, as Steve jogged over to them.

“Shaz’s real name is James,” Jack said reflexively. “What culture?”

“All the culture. Language, art, law, food, everything. It all comes from Italy. Morning, Cap,” Rumlow said, nodding in greeting.

“G’day, Steve,” Jack said.

“Darcy’s father wants you to do _what?”_ Steve said. He looked appalled.

“Her father tried to bribe this one to dump her,” Jack said, jerking his thumb towards Brock.

“Really? That’s--it’s disgusting,” Steve said. “I can’t believe he would want to do that. I’m so disappointed in Beau.” He’d met Beau Lewis before, but it stunned him to think Darcy’s father could do that to her. It was obvious to Steve that the couple were in love and they were expecting a baby. How could you break up a family? He’d seen the Instagram of Darcy’s new ring, too.

“Darcy’s father offered him a hundred thousand dollars to take a long walk and Brock turned him down. The man’s whipped, Cap,” Jack said gleefully. Steve looked even more appalled at the amount.

"What?" Steve said.

“I may not have a hundred thousand dollars, but I’m not so whipped somebody’s making me go to the fucking--sorry Cap--ballet. Darcy likes to stay home and watch reruns of _48 Hours,_ have I told you that yet?” he asked the Australian. Brock smirked at Jack. 

“You’re bloody lucky I don’t like women or she’d be all over me, I’m better-looking and taller,” Jack said.

“Bullshit,” Brock said. He and Jack began to bicker about who was better-looking, more sexually experienced, and the more successful STRIKE agent. “I’m the Commander of STRIKE Alpha, clearly, I’m better,” Brock said. 

“You _were_ the Commander, you’re taking a demotion,” Jack said.

“It’s a lateral move to full-time agent training, so I can be home at night with my child, it’s not a demotion,” Brock insisted. 

“Can someone explain what’s going on?” Steve said, sighing.

"I just need some help with Darcy's father," Brock told Steve.

“He needs to stop bragging about how his sheila loves to Netflix and chill, too, it’s obnoxious,” Jack scolded at the same time. 

“I’ll make sure to call you during intermission at the ballet,” Brock told him, laughing.

“Bloody hell, there’s an intermission? How long does it last?” Jack said, looking so forlorn that Brock took pity on him.

“There’s usually a place to get a drink, pal, you’ll be all right." Brock patted Jack's shoulder. "So, Cap, do you want to help me trick Darcy’s old man so she can fleece him for our Fig?” Brock said, looking at Steve. “We need more people at dinner for a diversion.”

“I do not understand any of these references,” Steve said. He frowned. “He really wanted you to leave her?”

“The sonofabitch wanted me to relinquish my parental rights,” Brock said, his voice turning unpleasant. “He brought paperwork with him to dinner, Cap. Gave ‘em to me while she was in the bathroom. Wanted me to give up my family.”

“Netflix and chill means--” Jack began, but Steve stopped him.

“I’ll help. Whatever you need, I’ll help, Rumlow,” Steve said.

 

***

 

They were working in the lab when Jane’s monitor got hijacked. “What is happening?” Darcy said, before a highly-specific pair of nostrils appeared on screen, then retreated to reveal the world’s most notorious billionaire-philanthropist-playboy scientist. “Tony!” she said. She had sent him a long thank you note for the baby gifts.

“Itty Bitty!” he said. “Congratulations on your engagement!” Darcy had posted photos on social media and called her mom this morning, too.

“Thank you,” Darcy said happily. She waved her ring at the screen.

“I can send you a team of lawyers,” Tony said.

“Huh?” Jane and Darcy said in unison.

“To help with your dad issues?” Tony said. “Capsicle called me. He’s incensed. I tried to explain to him that this is such a classic controlling dad thing, bribing the would-be spouse, but he doesn’t get it. You just throw some lawyers back at him, it’s all part of the game,” he said casually.

“Awww, Tony,” Darcy said. “That’s really sweet of you.”

“Charming brunettes with controlling fathers gotta stick together, Itty Bitty,” Tony said. “How many flesh-eating lawyers do you want? I got a new guy, I’m pretty sure he interned with Satan, but he’s a fantastic lawyer.”

“Ummm,” Darcy said. “I think we’re going to try a bit of hands-on trickery first, but can you keep Satan’s lawyer on retainer?” She looked at Jane. Jane nodded.

“Definitely,” Jane said. “She might need her trust fund issues resolved, Tony.”

“Jane!” Darcy said.

“You have a trust fund?” Tony said.

“I don’t like talking about it,” Darcy said.

“Because her dad is hoarding the money like a bridge troll,” Jane said.

“He’s my trustee,” Darcy explained.

“Sure. Typical dad thing. Oh, I realized I forgot to define _guido_ for you and Capsicle,” Tony said. “It’s like Mr. T met that Madonna video for “Papa Don’t Preach,” you know? Hair gel, some gold chains, very tan.”

“Oh,” Jane said. “I think I need a visual?”

“Me, too,” Darcy said.

“Hold on, I’ll get JARVIS on it,” Tony said.

 

Eventually, they segued from photos into the actual Madonna video. “I think Madonna was Peak Casual Madonna here,” Darcy said to Tony and Jane. She licked her spoon. Brock had bought her a bunch of Greek yogurts for the lab fridge, trying to get her to have more protein.

“That was a good year. 1986,” he said. “We still had pollution and graffiti in Manhattan. See it?”

“Okay, that is weird, Tony,” Jane said.

“The city had more character,” Tony insisted.

“You sound like Brock,” Darcy said. “He thinks New York has too much money now.”

“Fully one-forty-eighth of it is mine, the rest is Bloomburg,” Tony said. “Oh man, the guy who knocks up Madonna in this is totally your type, Itty Bitty. You sort of are Madonna now, aren’t you?” Darcy made a distressed noise.

“Unfair!” she said. “You’re stereotyping Italian-Americans. They don’t all look like my baby daddy and go around getting me and Madonna pregnant.”

“Have you thought about Tony as a baby name?” Tony said.

“I love it, but Brock thinks a Tony Rumlow might be teased,” Darcy said. “Which is sad because I really like Anthony.”

“Do you think people will forget the football player?” Jane said thoughtfully.

“How can we figure that out?” Darcy mused.

“I’ll have JARVIS run some programming to see how often he’s searched,” Tony said. “I wonder where the Madonna guy is now? Look, Itty Bitty, definite resemblance.” He’d put a photo of the Madonna video guy next to Brock on the screen.

“They don’t look alike at all!” Darcy insisted.

“Sure,” Jane said.

“They have totally different features and bone structure, okay?” Darcy said. “And that guy’s eyes are _blue.”_

“So?” Tony said.

“Brock has much better eyes,” she said.

“Aren’t they brown?” Jane said.

“Brown and green, they’re special,” Darcy said. “There’s nothing wrong with brown. Your eyes are a beautiful shade of brown!” she told Jane.

“I always wanted blue,” Jane said glumly.

“Brown is prettier. I want the baby to get his eyes,” Darcy said.

“Ok, I gotta zoom in on these very special brown eyes--JARVIS?” Tony said.

 

***

“I’m going to wear something borderline inappropriate!” Darcy called to Brock when she heard him come back. She was wiggling into a tight, low-cut dress. He’d left while she was in the shower. “What are you wearing?” They’d discussed being the Flashy, Loud Couple on the way home.

“Is this okay?” he asked, appearing in the bedroom doorway. “Tacky enough?” Brock asked, patting down his shirt front. He was wearing a black suit, but he’d paired it with a shiny black shirt. No tie.

“Oh my God, it’s _ridiculous_ how hot you look in that shirt. On anyone else it would be terrible, on you it’s just stupid hot. Undo some buttons, though,” she said, hopping up to unbutton his shirt. Darcy started to laugh. “Where did you find those?” she asked, once she spotted the gold chains on his neck. He didn’t wear jewelry normally. Not practical for work, she guessed. He groaned.

“I had a phase,” he said.

“A phase?” Darcy said.

“When I was...younger, I had a phase where I wore chains a lot, okay?” he said, sighing.

“You wore bling?” she said.

“Yes,” he said, looking grim. “This is why I don’t want to name the baby Angelo. What if it encourages him to have a phase later?”

“His Uncle Tony would probably buy him baby bling,” Darcy said, giggling.

“No,” Brock said. “Just...no.” He looked at her. “You look great, though,” he said. He had a gleam in his eye, she realized, just as he reached out to squeeze her.

“Excuse me, this is definitely the outfit of somebody who is going out with a chain-wearing Angelo,” she said, laughing.

“What? I think you look hot,” Brock said, not letting her go.

“You’re regressing! It’s the chains,” she said. He laughed. “I need to decide what  jewelry to wear. My ring is technically too classy for us, but I’m going to see what I can wear that clashes with my lipstick,” she said, trying to wiggle out of his grip.

“Oh, I got it handled, got you a present,” he said, grinning and fishing a box out f his pocket.

“What have you done?” Darcy said. She opened the box. Inside was a pair of elaborate rhinestone earrings. “These are amazing, I kind of love them.”

“I had Ma help me over the phone, I think they’re technically cubic zirconia or something, but I wanted them to be big and visible,” he said.

“I want to keep them,” she said, giggling.

“Oh, you can keep ‘em, _zuccherina,_ you just have to tell your father that I bought them,” he said smirking.

“Deal,” she said.

 

“Any other advice?” Brock said, as they met her father at a restaurant. He lagged back, his arm around Darcy. She looked beautiful, he thought. Ahead of them, Jane and Thor were beaming and marching forward.

“Beau of the Lewises!” Thor boomed. Several heads turned. Brock saw Darcy’s father--already seated at a table--look surprised.

“Get loud,” Darcy said. She had a wicked glint in her eye. “He hates when people get loud. I’m sad Jack and Gavin can’t come.”

“Cap’s gonna swing by,” Brock said. “He’s very disappointed in your father.”

“Oh, great. I love when he does his I’m Disappointed in You face. I’ve only seen him do it to Tony,” Darcy said. “The Fig and I are excite.”

“What does that mean?” Brock said, looking perplexed, as they threaded through the tables.

“It’s slang for excited. Do my slang words and my murder shows bug you?” she asked suddenly.

“Oh. No,” he said. “I like that you’re laid-back. Jack is jealous. He had to go to the ballet tonight.”

“I’d like the ballet better if people weren’t sitting so close to me,” Darcy said. She grinned and lowered her voice. “I’ve got an idea. Stand too close to Daddy. That makes him crazy.”

“It’s genetic, huh?” Brock said.

“Yes, I get my need for personal space in public from him,” Darcy said.

“Great,” he said. Brock had learned that she preferred tucked-away tables so no one would be brushing against her back in restaurants, didn’t like it when people crowded her in store lines, and would step back if someone stood too close. Brock looked over at her father. When he caught sight of them, it was like his whole face turned grim. Brock smirked.

 

“Daddy!” Darcy yelled loudly. “He got me a ring! We’re going to get married before the baby is born!”  Several people turned to stare at them.

“We are?” Brock said, secretly delighted.

“Play along,” Darcy whispered.

“No, I want to,” he insisted. “We’ll take the money and run.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I put this in every fic, but Frank Grillo has a really cool, unusual eye color. They're like an olive shade, a green and amber-brown all mixed together. 
> 
>    
> Just in general, everyone's eye colors/coloring are really fascinating, when you start to pay attention (the fashion writer David Zyla taught me that). Dennings' eyes are a beautiful shade of ocean blue. Sometimes more slate blue, sometimes more greenish-looking, depending on her makeup. They're just insanely gorgeous people, both of them. 
> 
>   
>  
> 
>  


	12. It's Just Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos.

“Hello,” her father said, standing. “Dr. Foster, Thor. I believe we’re going to need a bigger table.”

“Mr. Lewis,” Jane said, smirking at his obvious dismay that they’d come.

“It is a delight to see you again,” Thor boomed, walking over to Darcy’s father and lifting him off his feet. Darcy knew without seeing Thor’s face than he’d winked at Jane over her dad’s shoulder. She looked at Brock, grinning, then leaned up and kissed him. Following her lead, she felt him palm her ass and squeeze. She had to suppress a giggle. Her father would be horrified, she knew. He thought PDAs were really tacky. She was beginning to realize her father was super uptight. It hadn’t occurred to her when she’d dated men who were more shy than Brock.

“Yes, uh, thank you, son,” Beau said to Thor, when he’d been set down. Or at least she assumed he had: Darcy kept making out with Brock for a moment, trying to be as noisy as possible, so she heard rather than saw her father.

“I love you,” she cooed at Brock, when they’d separated a fraction. She tried to look at him with crazy eyes or something.

“I love you,” Brock said back.  Her father cleared her throat.

“Darcy,” Beau said.

“Whoops, sorry, Daddy!” Darcy trilled. “We’re just having a great night.”

“Uh-huh,” Beau said. He frowned at Darcy’s low-cut dress. Then his eyes went to Brock. “Interesting suit, son,” he said to Brock.

“Isn’t he handsome tonight?” Darcy said, stroking Brock’s arm.

“They like us to be a little sedate at SHIELD, but this, this right here, it’s really me,” Brock said, raising the arm that wasn’t around Darcy. He waved down a waiter and rather obviously passed him a twenty. “Can you get us a better table, kiddo?”

“I’ll get the hostess,” the waiter said.

“You keep that, kid,” Brock told him, clapping him on the back. “Show him your ring, _zuccherina._ I wanted her to get a bigger one, but she picked this one. What’s up with that, huh? You teach her to economize, Beau? Where’d she learn that? I thought a woman always wanted the nicest ring her husband could afford?” Brock said.

“The one he picked out was very blingy,” Darcy said.

“You don’t say,” Beau said. The hostess came to take them to a bigger table. “I can’t say I know where she got her talent for saving money, except that she and Dr. Foster here spent many years, runnin’ around the world on a shoestring, doing whatever it is they do scientifically,” Beau said. It sounded mild, but Darcy knew it was laced with cynicism. Jane did, too.

“Only expanding our understanding of the universe,” Jane said. Darcy hid her grin when Brock made sure to sit just a hair too close to her father and Beau tried to slide farther away. He couldn’t; Thor was man-spreading on his other side. It was great.

“And going to really good parties on Asgard,” Darcy said, grinning at Thor. “Daddy, I keep offering to bring you seeds from Asgard, why won’t you let me?” she asked.

“Well, honey, you know, I think it would violate my contract with Montelbano,” Beau said. The waiter came to take their drink orders.

“That giant agri-business? The one that does the genetically modified seeds and restrictive patents on farmers?” Jane said, once the waiter had departed.

“So you do know something about agri-science?” Beau said, almost begrudgingly. “Unfortunately, it’s not theoretical science. My yields are fantastic, but I have to buy new seeds every year, and if I use anybody else’s, it violates the contract.”

“Even the seeds of Asgard? That does not seem particularly fair,” Thor said.

“It’s just business, son,” Beau said to Thor. “Everybody makes compromises. I have to make compromises to keep all the farms running, pray nature works with me--”

“See, this is why my ancestors stopped working in the dirt,” Brock said wryly, as the waiter circled back around with their drinks.

“Your ancestors were farmers, huh?” Beau said.

“Fishermen and paesan, mostly,” Brock said.

“What’s that mean, babe?” Darcy said, rubbing his arm.

“Peasant,” he said, leaning over to kiss her. Loudly. Demonstratively. When Darcy looked back at the table, her father was frowning.

“You’ve come up in the world, son,” Beau said. There was an icy edge to his voice.

“I have, haven’t I?” Brock said.

“Oh, here’s the bread,” Darcy said, clapping happily. “Thank you,” she told the waiter brightly. “Guess what names we’re leaning towards, Daddy?” she told her father, chewing. He frowned at the sight of her tearing bread with her teeth. Brock smirked.

“What, honey?” her father said.

“Italia-Grace or Giada for a girl, Carmine for a boy. Or Anthony,” Darcy said.

“Giada?” her father said, looking baffled.

“A fine name,” Thor boomed loudly. “On Asgard, the current most popular baby names are Fandral and Sigga!” He made sure to elbow her father a little. Beau grimaced.

“Fandral? And we’re sure that’s not a paternity issue?” Darcy said jokingly.

“Pardon me?” her father said, confused.

“Probably,” Jane said, grinning and toying with her drink straw. “I know that baby of Hilda Hunsdottir’s is Fandral’s. It looks just like him.”

“The little girl’s cowlick and mustache are quite similar, yes!” Thor said.

“Am I supposed to understand any of this?” her father said.

“Fandral is a blonde guy on Asgard, gets around,” Brock supplied smoothly. “Has probably knocked up lots of women, Beau.” Thor tilted his head thoughtfully, a wicked glint in his eyes.

“Aye,” he said. “Fandral is very fond of Darcy. He sends regards, my Lightning Sister.”

“Hey, you told me you never fooled around with him!” Brock said to Darcy. “You lied to me, baby.”

“I did not! He just still has hopes,” Darcy said.

“I bet he does,” Brock said lasciviously. “Your daughter, she’s wild,” he told Beau, patting his shoulder. “Can wrap a man around her little finger.”

“Like you don’t know all about that,” Darcy said. “Charming the pants off people.”

“She says that like she doesn’t?” Brock said. “I think you’ve had more partners than me, baby. I mean, what was the number again, twenty? Twenty-five?”

“Excuse me, it was twenty-three! And I know your ex-files are thicker than mine,” she said, grinning in delight. “I work with you!”

“Twenty-three?” her father said, his face going slack.

“I did a count once,” Darcy said.

“We were drunk and bored in Norway,” Jane said, relishing the opportunity to make Beau miserable. He’d insulted her science!

“This is how you spend your workday?” Beau said to both women.

“Only on fun days,” Darcy said.

“I mean, for me, it’s probably north of sixty, but--” Brock said.

“Pretty expected, given your age,” Darcy joked.

“It’s one of the things she likes about me, that I have a wealth of experience,” Brock said dryly. “She really likes this thing with her earlobes--”

“I don’t need to hear this,” Beau said sharply.

“Daddy, it’s no big deal,” Darcy said, “get with the times.”

“Liz thinks these stories are funny,” Brock said.

“You tell your mother about your sex life? Of course you do,” Beau said to Darcy. He sighed heavily.

“It’s not like all of SHIELD doesn’t know we conceived this baby in a supply closet,” Darcy said. Her father’s expression turned horrified.

“Keep your voice down!” Beau said sternly.

“Oh, lighten up, Daddy! That’s how babies are made,” Darcy said.

“Hey, Jane, did I ever pay you to replace those office supplies?” Brock said casually.

“Nope,” Jane said. “I would say I’ll take it out of your wedding present, but if you’re eloping, I’ll just get you a housewarming-slash-baby shower present.”

“You’re eloping?” Beau said.

“As soon as Darcy makes her mind up about where she’d like to go,” Brock said. “We just decided.”

“What if we just went to Virginia for a license tomorrow, got married this week, and then went on a honeymoon trip?” Darcy said. “Is getting married overseas that difficult?” she said to her father. “We’re doing all this on the fly, I haven’t googled or anything. I want to spend a romantic trip in bed, not a city hall or something.”

“What’s your advice, Pops?” Brock asked. His grin was positively shark-like. Darcy thought her father looked somewhere between embarrassed and angry. He’d gone all flushed and red.

“I need to talk to you about getting married, young lady,” he said coldly to Darcy. “Outside.”

“Nope,” Brock said, before Darcy could speak. “Pregnant lady stays indoors, Beau. But I’ll go outside with you, if you want to have a serious talk about matrimony?” Brock offered.

 

***

 

“You’re purposefully antagonizing me,” Beau said. Brock shrugged fluidly.

“So?” he said to Beau. “Your daughter and I have a sex life. It should be pretty obvious. That a problem, all of a sudden?”

“I want you out of her life,” Beau said. “Before you turn my daughter into some sad, abandoned floozy with a child who never sees their deadbeat Yankee father.”

“Nope,” Brock told him.

“Is this a goddamn ploy for more money?” Beau said. “I won’t negotiate like this, son.”

“Who says we’re negotiating, Pops? I love Darcy. I’d marry Darcy for her bank account and secondhand furniture,” Brock said. “I’m looking forward to having a baby. You think I’d give that up for a measly hundred grand?” He chuckled.

“One-hundred and fifty,” Beau said. There was an edge of desperation in his voice.

“There’s a pretty big flaw in your plan to make me go away, here,” Brock said. “You’d think a lawyer would have figured it out by now. I thought you were a good lawyer. She says you are. I’m beginning to have my doubts.”

“Excuse me?” Beau said, offended.

“You have one child,” Brock said. “Just the one. Who inherits the grapes and the corn and all that other hayseed shit? She does. I marry her, everything eventually comes to us, old man. Everything that’s yours will be half mine one day. My kid’s, too. I’m going to have several of those with her, I think. Lots of’em. You know, they say the older you are when you get married the first time, the less likely you are to divorce? Me, I’ve waited a long time. I’m just going to do this once. And then I’m going to make her so happy she’ll never leave me---”

“Quarter of a million,” Beau said.

“Maybe we will go to Virginia tomorrow. I wonder how long that takes? I could be your son in law by next week, maybe sooner,” Brock said, smiling. “Oh, look, here’s Cap now---Cap!” he called.

“Rumlow,” Cap said. “Mr. Lewis, I’m thrilled you’re going to be a grandfather,” Steve told Beau, shaking his hand.  “Really thrilled. These two are going to be so happy together.” His smile was wide. Brock almost laughed at how comically bright Steve’s expression was.

“You hear that?” Brock said, clapping Beau’s shoulder. “Even the American icon _loves_ us together,” he whispered in Beau’s ear. “Nothing you can do to stop this train now,” he said.

“Three-hundred thousand,” Beau whispered in a dry voice. Steve was opening the restaurant door for them; Brock caught Steve’s fractionally dark glare before Steve’s expression smoothed back over. He must’ve heard.

“Nope,” Brock said casually.

 

***

 

When they went inside, Darcy smiled almost as luminously as Steve. Brock felt himself smiling for reasons that had nothing to do with getting under Beau's skin.  Jane and Thor were grinning and giggling like children. "Look who I found!" Brock said, lifting an arm towards Steve.

"Hi, everyone," Steve said, beaming.

“Steverini! Come have fancy food with us! Babe, guess what? We can apply online for a Virginia marriage license!” Darcy said.

“That’s fantastic, Darce,” Steve said.

“We’ve already started it,” Jane said.

“You’ve already started it?” Beau said, looking horrified. Brock smirked at him.

“They could be married by nightfall of tomorrow!” Thor boomed.

“I’d be a witness for you, Darce,” Steve said. “If you need ‘em.”

“Ain’t love grand?” Brock whispered in Beau’s ear, standing much too close. “Let’s do it then,” he said, more loudly, “we’ll all go tomorrow. This can be your rehearsal dinner, sweetheart.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can actually apply for VA marriage license online now. Technology is fun! https://courts.arlingtonva.us/circuit-court/marriage/
> 
> But what the hell is Brock doing? He could have a check in hand already....


	13. Meet Me at the Courthouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos!

Somehow, Darcy made it through dinner and dessert without throwing pie at her father. It helped that Brock was glued to her phone, filling out the license form with elaborate, visible enthusiasm. Also, Steve kept saying things like, “Sir, don’t you just love a wedding? Back in my day, people got married like this all the time.”

“Oh, really?” Beau said archly. “Pregnant?” Darcy saw Jane almost spit out her drink.

“I’m sure there was some of that,” Brock said. “Right, Cap?”

“Oh, I’m sure. No disrespect intended, Darcy. I meant they didn’t fuss too much,” Steve said. “They had small weddings and started their lives together.”

“I think they had the right idea, Cap,” Brock said. “Why wait?”

“You are so right,” Darcy said. Brock looked up from the phone, beaming.

“All done, we can pick up the license tomorrow,” he said.

“It’s done?” she said, beaming and getting a little emotional, despite the face that this was all a joke, really.

“All done,” Brock said. He smirked at Beau and for a moment, Darcy was sure her father was going to have an actual stroke. Maybe they should dial back the trolling a bit? She touched Brock’s knee.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked.

“I’m tired,” Darcy said, pitching her voice in a little whine. “Could you take me home?”

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “Gang, let’s breakup this little shindig for tonight, restart the party at the courthouse tomorrow?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Steve said.

“Honey, the man with the plan says we have one, I think we’re obligated to get married now,” Brock said.

“Yup, pretty sure it’s in the Constitution,” Darcy said. “Article America.”

“Well,” Beau said, “I suppose this is the moment where the father of the bride issues his congratulations--” His voice was cut off by Jane.

“Yes!” Jane cheered. “You’re getting married in the morning!” She’d been afraid Beau would say something unpleasant. Thor clapped along with her.

“My most sincere congratulations,” he said to Darcy and Brock seriously. Then the Asgardian winked. “We shall have a most excellent party on Asgard to coincide with your baby shower, Darcy,” Thor told her.

 

They all left the restaurant. Darcy said she’d do a group text get everyone to the courthouse on time and watched Jane and Thor walk to their car along with Steve. Beau stood on the sidewalk next to Darcy while Brock pulled the car around. “Honey,” her father said, “you know I just want you to be happy--

“I am happy, Daddy,” she said to him. “Very happy. None of this was planned, yes, but this is the best time in my life to have a baby. I’m very excited.”

“And you want me to be excited with you?” he said, sighing.

“Of course I do,” Darcy said. To her surprise, her father hugged her. He was holding her when he spoke again.

“To be clear, I’m sure I’m going to love my grandchild, even if I despise his father,” Beau said.

“Despise, really?” Darcy said.

“I hate his clothes, I hate the way he doesn’t shave, and I hate the way he looks at my little girl,” Beau grumbled.

“So, you want him a blue suit, a close shave, and no eye contact with me, huh?” Darcy said. “Bit difficult at a wedding, Daddy.”

“I just think you could do better,” her father said, huffing in frustration. “You’re young, brilliant, and beautiful. He’s practically my age! Do you know what people will think?”

“I don’t really care what anybody back home thinks,” Darcy said, with more conviction than she felt. She spotted Brock’s car pulling around. “Here he is,” she said.

“You really love him, don’t you?” her father said, sounding glum.

“Uh-uh,” she said. Beau sighed again.

“If he leaves you and breaks your heart like your mama left me, I’ll shoot him,” he grumbled.

“Daddy!” Darcy said. She paused, digesting. “You think Mom left you?”

“Didn’t she?” he said. “Up and went to New Mexico.”

“This is why you’ve never dated anybody else?” she asked curiously. “Not just because work keeps you too busy? Really? I didn’t think--”

“Of course I love your mother. There’s nobody like your mother,” Beau said.

“Ohhhhhh,” Darcy said.

“Don’t go telling her I said that,” he said to Darcy.

“Wow,” she said, “I had no idea.”

“Does everybody just think I’m made of stone or something?” Beau said.

“Kinda?” Darcy said, making a face. He made a bunch of indecipherable grumpy noises until Brock hopped out of the car and embraced him in a big hug. Then Darcy caught his eye roll.

  


Darcy called her mom when the got home. Elizabeth was delighted they seemed to have rattled Darcy’s father, but sad she couldn’t see Beau’s face when they trolled him. “I wish I could have been there!” Elizabeth said. “Did that vein in his forehead throb?”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said, sliding out of her tacky dress. She wasn’t going to tell her mother that her father was still carrying a torch. How crazy was that? Liz maintained an active social life, had dated several people seriously since they divorced, and had a large circle of friends. She’d well and truly moved on. It was sad that her father hadn’t, Darcy thought. How wild. Her father was still in love with her mother. The idea was so distracting, she lost the thread of her mother's conversation. Elizabeth was chatting happily, congratulating them. You couldn't find two people more different, Darcy mused...

Brock came into the room, looked at her, and mouthed _bath?_ Darcy nodded eagerly and did double thumbs up. She was totally in the mood to cuddle with him in the bath.

 

***

 

“What’d you mom say about the surprise marriage license?” he asked, when they were both submerged in the barely-warm water. He’d taken the temperature again. Brock took a washcloth and ran it across Darcy’s pale back. He was worried her father had said something upsetting when he’d left them alone together, but was trying to work his way into that conversation slowly.

“She’s excited. Did you want to tell your mom or not?” Darcy asked. She seemed to hesitate.

“I dunno how she’ll react,” he said quietly. “Either she’ll be wildly happy I’ve convinced you to marry me or she’ll be wildly happy _and_ she’ll want to throw us a big Catholic wedding later.” He expected her to laugh. She didn’t. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Darcy said.

 _“Zuccherina,_ I can feel how tense you are,” he said. “Tell me what’s bugging you?”

“Is this right?” Darcy said. “What we’re planning? Getting him to offer you money to bail and then taking it, especially getting a marriage license and sort of terrifying him into offering you a huge ton of cash?”

“You’re having second thoughts?” he said, kissing her temple.

“A little.” He wrapped his arm around her belly. She leaned against him, all softness and pale skin. “I don’t know, Brock. It just feels mean-spirited, somehow. I know it was my idea….”

“We can skip it,” he said firmly. “We’ll do exactly what you want. Just give me my marching orders, _coccolissima._ ”

“I don’t know,” Darcy said. “What if we get the license and play it by ear tomorrow?”

“Sure,” he said, feeling a wave of disquiet in his chest. Was it that she didn’t want to do this to her father--understandable--or was it that she didn’t want to marry him, not really?

“What?” Darcy said. “Were you looking forward to the money?”

“No,” he said quietly. “I just really want to be married to you.”

“Shut up,” she said in a teasing voice.

“I’m serious,” he said, brushing her wet hair aside to kiss her neck. She wiggled as he worked his mouth up to her ear.

“You know, I forgot the whole _not spending the night together before the wedding_ thing,” Darcy said. His mouth slipped slightly in surprise. “Are you going to leave marks on me before we elope?” she asked.

“You’re pregnant, we spend all our nights together,” he told her firmly.

“Is that a Rumlow house rule?” Darcy said.

“Yeah,” he said, cupping her breast to run the washcloth over it. “I’m not letting you and this baby out of my sight.”

“That so?”

“Mmmm-hmmm,” he said.

“What about Fabio for a baby name?” she said archly. “Would you divorce me?”

“Oh dear God,” he said, groaning.

“Fabrizio?” she offered.

“Marginally better,” he said.

“What names do you like?” she asked.

“Carina,” he said. “I still like that one.”

“Just one out of the millions that I have suggested,” she said.

“Let’s talk about it in bed,” he told her. He climbed out of the tub, dried them both with towels, then carried her to bed. “You need anything?” he asked.

“You,” she said, doing a funny _gimme gimme_ motion with her hands. He tried to remind himself to be gentle with her.

“Do you want to be on top?” he asked, straddling her hips and leaning down to kiss her. He was holding himself slightly above her. She ran her hands through his hair and tugged slightly. “Oh, that feels good, sweetheart,” he said.

“I don’t want to be on top,” she whispered. “I like the weight of you.”

“The weight of me?” he said, swallowing. She was meeting his eyes. He couldn’t look away from her.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said. “Get down here.” He lowered himself gently. Tipping her knees farther apart, he stroked the back of her thigh. She shivered. “What are you smirking about?” she said.

“In the morning, I’m going to have a beautiful young wife,” he said.

“Do you really want a beautiful young wife?” she asked. Her hands caressed his shoulders.

“I want you,” he told her. He pressed himself inside her and rocked slowly. “I thought we were being gentle?” he asked, when he felt her nails dig into his lower back. The mixture of pleasure and pain made him jolt and she grinned.

“Oh, that was all you promising to be gentle,” she said. “I’m under no obligation.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, kissing her. He pushed more forcefully and she gave him a sweet little moan, squeezing his hips slightly. Those first few thrusts were always the most incredible, but he chased her moans and responses across the bed, pushing more and more. Brock was frantic with lust. He forget everything but the feel of her, their bodies together. The softness of her curves, the faint taste of salt when he kissed her neck, damp with sweat. Darcy’s face was flushed, her eyes closed, but she whispering encouragement to him. _FeelssogoodohGodlovethisloveyousomuchsomuch,_ he heard her murmur, the words strung together. They were both lost, he realized, when she quivered around him, clenching, and he came in response, groaning and shaking. He couldn’t hold his body up. “Oh God, baby, oh God,” he said, half-collapsed on top of her. He felt dazed and heavy-limbed.

“Yeah?” she said, gazing up at him. Her skin was glowing. He shifted them gently, so they were side by side. He didn’t want his weight to make her uncomfortable. He kissed her. They lay together for awhile, still. He usually fell asleep after sex, but he wasn’t tired. His pulse raced. “You okay?” she asked, stroking his hair.

“Yeah,” he said. “Real good.”

“I don’t mean to rush you,” she said carefully.

“What?” he said, not following.

“Into marriage,” she said. “We don’t have to do this just to make the Moms happy or my father miserable.” Brock felt himself frowning.

“I want this,” he said.

“Are you sure?” she said.

“Yeah.”

"We're very different," she said. He wondered why she'd said that.

"Opposites attract," he told her, leaning in for a teasing kiss. 

***

 

“This is surprisingly depressing,” Darcy whispered to Jane. It was eight-thirty-five and they were in line for the marriage license. She and Brock needed to pick up the license and then they could be married by appointment at the courthouse. She’d been told they could actually wait to be married that afternoon. Four o’clock. Brock had dropped her off so she wouldn’t have to walk from a parking deck or something. She and Jane had gone in, while Thor and Steve waited for Brock and her father. Darcy was wearing a floaty little sundress and her favorite earrings. Her ring was the fanciest part of her outfit.

“Are you having doubts?” Jane asked softly.

“Not about getting married,” Darcy said. Not really, her mind supplied, though she’d been surprised there was a same day slot. She still worried that Brock didn’t really want to be married. But somehow, fluorescent lighting and waxed flooring was not where she’d ever imagined getting married, either. There was nothing romantic about bureaucracy. She hadn’t really thought about it until now, preoccupied with Brock, her father, and the Nugget.

“Darce,” Jane said, “if you want a more romantic ceremony, tell Brock. He’ll understand.”

“You think so?” Darcy said. “I was just hoping to use this, you know, but now it feels--” Her voice trailed off.

“Too much like a hospital?” Jane offered. Darcy laughed. “What?” Jane said. “It’s not that funny.”

“Old Marx brothers joke, Janey. Marriage is a wonderful institution. But who wants to live in an institution?” Darcy supplied, between giggles. The people in line in front of them gave them an odd look.

 

They’d been waiting in line for another five minutes or so when the four men appeared. “Hey,” Darcy said, waving. Brock made it to her first, kissing her and wrapping an arm around her waist. “We can do the ceremony today,” she told him. “Four o’clock this afternoon.”

“Four o’clock,” he said, smiling.

“Four o’clock, huh?” her father said.

“This is the license line,” Jane supplied.

“I see,” he said.

“Same day wedding,” Steve said cheerfully.

“Well, I guess it’s my turn to offer to take everybody out for a meal after we get this license sorted,” her father said. He looked at Darcy and frowned slightly. “You’re not getting married in white?”

“I didn’t have a white dress at home,” Darcy said. “Besides, I’m pregnant. White dresses seemed out.” She patted the Nugget.

“Uh-huh,” her father said. He looked at Brock. He’d decided on a suit this morning. He looked incredible, Darcy thought. Handsome. She smiled at her future husband. Her father sighed.

“What Daddy?” Darcy said.

“Somebody Google a bridal shop,” he grumbled. “You ought to have a decent dress at four o’clock. I’ll pay for it. They got bottled water around here?”

“I’ll show you,” Steve said, “saw a vending machine around the corner.” They walked away.

 

“Did my father just say he was going to buy me a dress?” Darcy said, baffled. Brock grinned.

“He hasn’t even offered me any money to disappear today,” Brock said.

"Perhaps he is softening?" Thor offered sweetly.

“You broke him!” Jane said gleefully. 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if this is plausible as far as the Arlington courthouse goes (given that they're letting you apply online), but every time I've ever been to a government office, it involved waiting in line, so I wrote that as a scene...


	14. Something Borrowed, Something Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos!

They all waited in line for the license for several more minutes. Darcy was having a little wave of nausea, so she snacked on goldfish crackers that she and Jane had smuggled in and Brock brought her a ginger ale. “You want me to pick you up?” Brock offered.

“Pick me up?” she said, confused. He scooped her up gently. “What are you doing?” she said, giggling.

“I don’t want your feet to swell,” he said.

“Yes, I know how you love my feet,” Darcy said, winking at him where her father couldn’t see.

“Cute feet,” Brock said playfully. Darcy heard her father sigh and dared to look at him, to see if he looked horrified. But Beau wasn’t looking at her. He was frowning at his phone.

“Something wrong, Daddy?” she asked. He looked up.

“Just the weather reports back home, honey,” he said, “nothing serious for you to worry about.” Darcy wasn’t quite sure why, but she had the oddest feeling that her father wasn’t being honest. For starters, he always took the weather seriously. Weather was serious business for Beau Lewis. Darcy scrunched her nose, but shook her head at Brock’s raised eyebrow.

 

***

 

After they got the license, Beau asked Darcy if she wanted to eat first or get herself a dress. They’d booked their four o’clock ceremony slot. “Um, I’m kinda full from the goldfish. Can we do dresses?” she asked. She looked at Brock. “Why don’t you and Steve and Thor do a guy thing?” she offered.

“A guy thing?” Brock said.

“Bars, strip clubs, that kind of thing? Like a bachelor party?” Darcy said. Brock looked at her incredulously.

“I’m not going to a strip club on my wedding day,” Brock said, looking offended.

“Good,” Steve said, looking relieved.

“I shall manage them,” Thor said. “Do you have your clothing of the missions?” he asked Brock.

“Yeah, always, why?” Brock said.

“We play the paintball,” Thor said. “You will need different clothes.” Brock looked at Darcy.

“I can’t come with you to look at dresses?” he asked.

“Bad luck!” Darcy told him. “You can’t see me in my dress.”

 

They made plans to rendezvous at a restaurant at one-thirty. Her father called in a reservation at a nice DC restaurant. It was very cute that Brock kept looking back at her as Thor and Steve dragged him away. He looked forlorn, like a kid being left at daycare. Darcy looked at Jane and her dad. “So,” she said, “dresses?”

 

***

 

There was a discount bridal place nearby. Darcy had decided they would be the ones to have the best off-the-rack option. The three of them came in and told the salesperson that they were looking for a dress for that afternoon. “This afternoon?” she said, looking panicked.

“It can be very casual,” Darcy said. “We’re just getting married at the offices next to the courthouse, so I was thinking something shorter? This is my dad and my maid of honor-slash-witnesses,” she said, gesturing to her father and Jane.

“All right,” the saleswoman said. “Let me pull a few options.”

Jane got her mother on speakerphone. “Honey, I can’t wait to see your dress!” Liz said cheerfully.

“Hello, Liz,” Beau said.

“Beau? You’re there?” Liz said.

“It was his idea,” Darcy called, emerging in a tea-length dress with 3-D flowers. “This is on sale for less than a hundred dollars!” she said, swishing the skirt around her knees. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Stunning,” Jane said.

“You don’t want a long dress?” her father said.

“A long dress seems all wrong for this kind of wedding,” Darcy told her father. He nodded. She tried on several tea-length options and had Jane send her mom photos of each one. They even got a thrilled Angela on the phone. She didn’t know how Brock would feel, but Darcy decided she’d hate to miss out on this. She only sounded a little disappointed that she wouldn’t be there.

“Honey, I love that last one,” Angela said. She’d tried on a cap sleeved dress, but it sort of squished her boobs and there was no time for alterations.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, trying to decide. They were cute dresses. She thumbed through some racks, then stopped, sighing. She really liked the longer, more elaborate dresses. She wouldn’t have minded a swishy mermaid train. But you didn’t want to wear your nice mermaid train if you were going all municipal, did you?

“What’s wrong?” Jane said.

“Something’s wrong?” Angela said, tinnily, over speakerphone.

“What is it?” Liz said.

“She wants a fancier dress,” her father said dryly. “I know that look.”

“Daddy,” Darcy said scoldingly. “I don’t. Not really. It’d drag on the floor and I’m only wearing it once.” She released the edge of one of the fancier, long-skirted dresses and went back to her first choice. “Tea length it is,” she announced. The detailing on this one was really pretty. And it was on sale. That made it more special, right?

“Get a cute veil,” Jane urged.

“A fascinator!” Liz called.

“Like Princess Kate. You’ve got good hair for fascinators,” Angela said. Beau started to chuckle as the Moms talked about what good hair the baby was going to have.

“Don’t laugh, Beau! That baby is going to come out with a full head of hair!” Liz said. He started to laugh in earnest.

 

***

 

“Jesus Christ,” Brock said, ducking down behind some wooden barriers in the paintball field. Thor just missed him. The Asgardian’s aim was lethal. Jack was twenty feet from him, behind a tree. They’d recruited STRIKE Alpha to join the game. “Have pity on the groom!” he yelled out.

“Not today! Today we fight!” Thor said. He was joined by assorted cheers. It was down to four of them: Cap and Thor versus Rumlow and Rollins. The other guys, already mortally wounded with paint, watched from the bleachers.

“You all right?” Jack asked wryly.

“Yeah, he didn’t get me,” Brock said.

“I meant getting married in a few hours?” Jack said. Brock rose, stooping, to see if he could get the shot from around the barrier.

“Yeah,” he said, “I’m fine. I’m excited.”

“Really?” Jack said.

“Hell, yes,” he said. With a _pop-pop-pop_ , he got Thor in the chest. The Asgardian looked down, frowning. There were several splatters of orange paint. The other team members groaned.

“Warriors, I am afraid I have lost,” Thor announced sadly.  

“I’m ready to get married. But first, I got to shoot Cap to win this thing. Where is he?” Brock said.

 

***

 

“You need flowers,” Beau supplied, when they left with her dress. She was just going to wear the sandals she’d been wearing today.

“Also, something blue,” Jane added. She was holding her phone for the Moms. “I’ve got her something borrowed,” she said.

“What?” Darcy said.

“I’ve got you covered,” Jane said mysteriously, refusing to elaborate.

“Okay, that knocks off one thing,” Darcy said. Where could they get the something blue and flowers before lunch? She said as much.

“Blue underwear, honey!” Liz said. “Or flowers?”

“Excellent,” Jane said, grinning at her father’s blush.

“I think blue flowers,” Darcy said, hoping to spare her father a lingerie livestream. “Doesn’t that Fresh Market across the street have good, cheap flowers?” she asked Jane. Jane nodded.

“Do we need to wrap them or prepare them?” Jane asked quizzically.

“I dunno,” Darcy said, shrugging. “We’re winging it. I’ll carry them in the cellophane or whatevs.” Beau laughed. “Why is that funny, Daddy?” she asked.

“Because I forget how good you are at winging it,” he said. “She did this with her homework, too. Hardly ever studied. Wrote all her papers at the last minute and always got As.”

 

At the grocery store, Darcy picked out pink and white roses and was looking at the blue flowers when it dawned on her. “I’m covered for blue!” she said.

“What?” Jane said.

“Valentine’s Day bracelet!” she said, flashing her wrist. It had sapphires, she realized.

“Oh, great,” Jane said.

“A gift from Brock,” she explained to her father. “I forgot it could count as the something blue.”

“Why haven’t I seen this?” Angela said. “Show me.” Darcy snapped a photo on her own phone and messaged it to Angela.

“He said he was worried about me falling, so I get protection against the evil eye,” she joked to Angela. A second later, Angela replied on Jane’s open conference call.

“Oooh, that’s pretty. Finally, he’s learning how to treat a nice girl,” Angela said.

“You don’t have to learn when you’re that good-looking!” Liz said. Beau sighed. “What?” Liz said. “I heard that, Beau!”

“All the women in my family,” Darcy heard him mutter. She looked over the flowers.

“Okay, this is it, twenty bucks worth of pretty roses, I’m good,” she said. “We’re ready for lunch, aren’t we? What time is it?”

“Eleven-oh-two,” Jane said, “we’re ahead of schedule.”

“Science Ladies winging it for the win!” Darcy said. “You have any more goldfish? I might need a snack between now and one.”

 

Darcy felt weirdly calm. Her dad paid for the flowers and took them to the Starbucks in the same shopping center. They chatted with the Moms by phone and drank coffee outside. It was one of those sunny, warm days where anything seemed possible. She had started out the day oddly anxious, but as they did things, Darcy felt better and better. She had a pretty dress that was less than a hundred bucks, gorgeous-looking flowers, and whatever Jane was planning, plus a parent, a wedding party, and, most essentially for a ceremony, her baby daddy. Provided Thor and Steve returned him without dents or scratches. The Moms had said they’d call before the ceremony and she was grinning to herself when Jane asked what she was thinking about. “I can do this,” she told Jane. “I was nervous at first, but we can handle it. Look at this cute wedding we’re throwing together in a day. I’m going to ace this, then we’re doing baby prep. I can do things.” Her father chuckled.

“Isn’t it funny how easy that gets once you’re in the thick of it?” he said. “You never know what you can do until you’re doing it, kiddo.”

“Any other parenting advice?” Darcy asked.

“Just one thing,” he said. He took something out of his wallet and passed it to her.

“What is this?” Darcy said. _It couldn’t possibly…._

“Account information for your trust fund,” he said. “Already signed the paperwork to have it turned fully over to you,” he said. “You specifically,” he added.

“Not Brock, huh?” Jane supplied. Her father sighed.

“Nope,” he said. “Your spouse shall have no legal rights to your funds. I’d advise against having the terms changed, kiddo. If something happens to you, the trust falls on the baby, with your mama and me as co-trustees.” Darcy stared and Jane stood up.

“I’ll give you a minute,” she told them, heading back inside the coffee shop.

“But why is it so much money?” Darcy said. There was three or four times as much as she was owed.

“I’ve been adding to it,” he said. “We’re doing pretty well. Your cousins might want to buy you out in a few years, you know that. I can make the arrangements, we’ll put your buyout in trust also.”

“I know they’d wanted to and they love farming, Daddy,” Darcy said. They should buy her out.

“Tuck that away for future reference,” her father said, nodding. “I’ll mention that you’re interested, see if we can make a plan. Might help you in estate taxes if we do it before I’m dead.”

“Daddy--” Darcy began.

“I tried to run him off,” her father said. “Didn’t work. He won’t shake for six figures. That English boy practically ran away and I didn’t even actually pay him.”

“You didn’t pay Ian?” Darcy said, gobsmacked.

“Nope,” he said, smiling. “Just scared him so badly he forgot his check. In retrospect, he probably thought I might shoot him. I’d mentioned hunting.”

“But _why?”_ Darcy asked. “Why did you offer him money? Why are you giving me money now?”

“I still don’t like him,” Beau said. “I can’t tell if he’s turning down my money purely out of love for you or if he enjoys hazing me. But you’re having a baby. It occurred to me that the best way to guarantee you and the baby’s future is to make it so you aren’t dependent on him.”

“You’re giving me money because you don’t trust the man I’m marrying today?” she said, eyebrows raised.

“Trust is earned. I don’t know him. And it doesn’t hurt you one bit to have funds that are yours and yours alone. If he cheats or drinks too much or, well, anything, you aren’t stuck staying with him because you’ve got children,” Beau said. Darcy had no idea what to say, so she said that. Her father nodded. “I’m probably not your favorite person right now,” he said. “But there’s not a father alive who wouldn’t want his daughter to be able to make her own decisions when she has children and I know you’re responsible.”

“You know I’m responsible?” Darcy said. Her father laughed.

“Honey, I just watched you buy a discount wedding dress and twenty dollars worth of flowers to get married in and it made you happy to think you were getting a deal. Your groom is bent out of shape because you won’t let him buy you a more expensive ring. You’re a fine money manager.” He frowned.

“What?” Darcy said.

“You’d be a great help to me and Gus if you were interested in the work,” he said glumly.

“I’d be miserable! I love my life here,” she said.

“I know,” her father said. He smiled. “I’m glad you’re happy, I just hate you being so far from me.” She could tell he meant geographically and emotionally.

 

***

“Did you let me win?” Brock said to a paint-covered Cap as they headed to the on-site showers.

“It’s your wedding day,” Steve said mildly.

“Doesn’t that mean I’m already winning?” Brock said, feeling a kind of nervous excitement. He’d barely managed the shot. There was a slight tremble in his hands. Steve clapped him on the shoulder and they parted at the showers. Brock took a deep breath once he was alone. He’d started out the day calm, but his nerves were jumpy and there was a knot in his throat as they got closer and closer to noon. The tremble in his hands persisted as he cleaned the paint off, washed his hair, and dressed in his suit again. Then his phone rang. “Hello?” he said, heart jolting strangely.

“You’re getting married today?” a voice said.

“Yeah, Ma, I’m getting married,” he said softly. He sat down on the bench. “You okay?”

“I would have come down if I’d known,” she said. She was trying to sound happy and normal, but he could hear the emotion in her voice.

“We just decided last night, I swear, Ma, just to torture her father and things, uh, mushroomed? Real fast. I’m sorry,” he said. “So sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry!” she said. “I’m so happy for you. Besides, Jane is going to record everything, so it’ll be just like being there.” Her voice broke then. “I’m very happy you’re finally doing what I tell you for once.”

“I try, Ma, I try,” he said softly.

“I just love you so much,” his mother whispered.

“I love you, too, Ma.”

 

After they’d hung up the phone, his hands were shaking. “Fuck,” he swore, when he almost dropped a cufflink. Brock felt shaky and nervous. His guts were churning, too.

“You all right?” Steve said, appearing from around the corner in his Army dress uniform. He’d thought Darcy would get a kick out of him wearing it for the ceremony. He’d circled back to tell Brock that they’d called to say Darcy was waiting with her father and Jane at the restaurant.

“Nerves,”  Brock said.

“Didn’t think you got those,” Steve said.

“It’s a new feeling,” he admitted. “Can’t say I like it too much.”

“Where’s everyone bloody off to?” Jack callled. He found them and announced, “I’m crashing your wedding, mate.”

“Appreciate it,” Brock said, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat. It was proving difficult. “How’d you find a suit?” he asked.

“Borrowed the one I wore this morning,” Steve said. “That was when I thought we were just doing a license.”

“We’re the same size,” Jack said, grinning. He expected Brock to say something smart about Jack bragging, but Brock had a middle distance glare that even Jack found slightly alarming. _What was that about,_ Jack wondered. _Was he all right? He didn’t look all right. In fact, he looked a bit queasy._

 

***

 

Darcy was determined that the pre-wedding lunch would go well. She told her her father that she wanted it to go well as they were walking into the restaurant. Beau grinned. “It is that a declaration?” he said.

“Yes,” Darcy said. “Got it?”

“You get more and more like your mother…” he said, with something between wryness and fondness. The three of them sat down to wait for the other half of the party. It was slightly awkward. Darcy had the account information tucked in her purse. She didn’t know quite what to say. She and Jane had intermixed her rose bouquet already, Darcy had had a bout of morning sickness before they left Starbucks, and she knew they needed to leave by a certain time for the ceremony. “Should I change here?” she asked Jane. She hadn’t thought it through.

“I’ll call, see if you can change there,” Jane said.

“If not, you can just wear my coat over your dress,” her father said. He had a long overcoat in the car that would cover her completely.

“Thank you,” she said. “That’s a good idea.”

“I have them sometimes,” he said. But then he smiled at her. “Don’t worry,” he said. She nodded. Darcy was scrutinizing her makeup in the reflective surface of a butter knife, wondering how wild she looked, when Jane almost shrieked. Darcy’s head jerked up.

“Wha--?” she began, before she spotted Steve in his dress uniform and grinned. “Oh, this is so going on Facebook,” she said.

“He looks like a movie star,” Jane said, sounding awestruck.

“Wasn’t he technically a movie star?” her father said. Darcy was going to say yes, but then the hostess moved and she saw Brock. His eyes met hers. It was like everything stopped. He was at her elbow when she could talk again.

“We’re getting married,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he whispered back, eyes on her face.

 

***

 

At a certain point in the pre-wedding lunch, Jane realized that something major must’ve gone down with Darcy and her father after she left the table at Starbucks. Darcy was nervous and Beau--of all people!--was trying to reassure her. Jane looked at Brock. He looked anxious, too. Jack kept cutting his eyes at him. The only people who didn’t seem nervous were Thor and Steve. They were the only ones really eating. A nervous Darcy was drinking caffeine-free soda and picking at a very un-Darcy salad. It had goat cheese and candied pecans, but since when was she that into arugula? What was going on?

 

“I believe it might be time to go,” Beau said at two thirty. “My phone has an app that tells me we’re about and hour from the courthouse and Darcy has to change.” They were across town from the wedding location.

“I’ve got to get all pretty!” Darcy said, laughing. Jane could hear the edge in her laugh. Brock smiled at her.

“You’re already beautiful,” he said softly, squeezing her hand. Despite the objections of Brock, Steve, and even Jane, her father paid for everyone's lunch.

 

***

 

“Jane, Jane, I’m panicking,” Darcy said, burping. She’d been smart enough to pack a bag with makeup, a hairbrush, and even her saltines and ginger anti-nausea candy, but she was burping and sweating in the little bathroom in the officiant's office. It was barely bigger than a closet and had a small mirror.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got lipstick, powder, and even your Sofia Vergara fragrance mist,” Jane said. Darcy had--naively, she now realized--thought she might not have nausea before the wedding, so she’d packed her favorite pineapple scent, _Tempting Paradise_.

“Do you have deodorant?” Darcy said in a squeak. She hadn’t put her dress on yet, so she was standing in her underwear and shoes.

“I do!” Jane said excitedly, then almost dropped the stick. Darcy put some of the deodorant on, then got brave.

“Mist me,” she said.

“Are you sure? What if you puke?” Jane said.

“I can do it, I just don’t want to smell like boob sweat. Hold tight, Nugget,” she told the baby. Jane stood several feet away and misted Darcy. She felt a slight wave of queasiness, then it subsided. They waited a few minutes, powdered Darcy’s face, put on her lipstick, and then got her in the dress.

“How do I look?” Darcy said. “I feel sweaty!”

“I’ll dab your forehead with a paper towel,” Jane said. Darcy took a second paper towel--brown scratchy and more like a paper bag than a towel--and twisted around to dab at her back. “Should I stuff this down my bra? I feel like I should,” Darcy said.

“No, no, you’re fine,” Jane said. There was a tap at the door.

“You ready, honey?” her father called.

“I’m ready, I’m ready!” Darcy said back.

“Wait, your something borrowed,” Jane said, reaching into her bag. She pulled out a small wooden box. Darcy recognized it. One of Frigga’s jewels, given to Thor for Jane. A pair of long earrings with sunshine-colored gems at the bottom. Jane put them on with shaking hands. They swung and sparkled in Darcy’s ears.

“Oh, Jane, these are beautiful,” she said, starting to cry.

“No, no, mascara!” Jane shrieked.

“Okay, okay, I got it,” Darcy said.

“Is everything okay in there?” her father asked.

 

When Darcy opened the door, he was holding her flowers. He looked momentarily stunned. “You look beautiful,” he said seriously.

“Thank you, I’m going to puke I’m so nervous,” she said. He laughed and offered his arm. She took the flowers and laced her arm with his.

“You can do this, you--” Jane began.

“Tased Thor!” Darcy said.

“Really?” her father said.

“We thought he was an angry drunk,” Darcy explained. Her father burst out laughing.

 

***

 

When they came into the office where the ceremonies took place, Brock was standing next to the officiant. He looked up when the door opened and she saw his face change. Behind him, three other people were smiling with varying degrees of intensity: Steve beamed like the sun, Thor looked ecstatic, and Jack had a happy face that was totally unlike his usual work expression. Beau led Darcy up to the front of the room.

“Are we ready?” the officiant asked. “I’ll need the witnesses to sign, too.” Darcy had gotten a name, but had already forgotten it. Steve raised a hand to indicate he and Thor and probably Jack would sign. Jane was supposed to manage the livestream during the ceremony and already had her phone going. No one was in charge of rings, because they hadn’t gotten rings yet. Everything had happened so quickly.

“Yes, ma’am,” Darcy stuttered at the woman. She worried she wouldn’t be able to stand up and say _I do_ at the same time, she was so nervous. Unlike her, Brock was absolutely still. His eyes hadn’t left her face. Expression intense, he tilted his head down at her and cupped her elbows gently. The bouquet in her hands shook a little. 

“You look beautiful,” he said, swallowing. “So beautiful. But we--I can’t do this."

"What?" she whispered, acid in her throat. Brock ran a hand through his hair and looked ashamed.

"I can’t get married today,” he said.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darcy's $79 dress: https://www.davidsbridal.com/Product_3d-floral-v-neck-short-dress-with-structured-hem-sdwg0676_sale-wedding-dresses
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> You may recognize Frigga's earrings:
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	15. A Difficult Reception

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos! Y'all are the best!

Darcy felt her own heartbeat in her ears. In the distance--the very far off distance--she heard Jane’s irate sound and her father’s voice. “What the hell, son?” Beau was saying. Only it sounded like her father was about three blocks away. Her eyes were locked on a bead of sweat on Brock’s forehead, threatening ominously to slide down and drip in his eye. It registered to Darcy that Brock was still talking and holding her hands. Very tightly. His grip was like iron. Her knuckles had gone white. 

“Ow. What?” she said. Her voice came out creaky and too high. She was so scared that she wasn’t taking in air well, Darcy realized, sucking in a shaky breath and immediately hyperventilating a little.

“Hey, hey,” Brock said, “it’s okay, it’s okay.” He’d pulled her against him. “We’re getting married, I just want a better wedding for you, baby.”

“What?!” she said more loudly. Her face was pressed against his shoulder.

“We can’t get married without our mothers,” he said. “This doesn’t feel right. I want a real wedding for you. Us. Our families.”

“Bloody hell,” Jack muttered.

“Jesus H. Christ,” her father said.

“Could you have not said that sometime earlier?” Jane said sharply. When Darcy picked up her head, she realized Thor was physically restraining Jane from coming at Brock. Steve’s frown and crossed arms were only slowly easing away as he shook his head. Darcy’s heartbeat returned to normal and she took a real, deep breath. Brock looked down at her.

“I just talked to Ma this morning and she was sad,” he said. “She won’t say it, but she wanted to be here. I’m sure Liz feels the same way.” Brock looked at her father. “We threw this together to piss you off, but she deserves better than that,” he told Beau. His grip on Darcy’s hands relaxed.

“That true?” Beau said.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, “also, I was hoping you’d offer Brock a huge check and we’d cash it and get married anyway. Since we’re being honest today, this was a con wedding. But”--she looked at Brock--”that doesn’t mean I’m not  _ freaking pissed  _ at you for doing this on the livestream! Our mothers are watching!” Prying her hands away, she smacked him full in the face with her roses. “I’m  _ pregnant,  _ you moron! The baby doesn’t need this.” He caught the bouquet fumblingly and she crossed her arms. “Jane?” Darcy said.

“Yes?”

“I’m going home with you and Thor tonight,” Darcy said. She turned on her heel and marched out of the office.

“Baby!” Brock yelled. He made to follow her and Darcy whirled on him and pointed. 

“Don’t you even try to follow me right now!” she said. “I don’t want to see you until I want to see you!”

“Okay,” he said, stopping. The three of them--Jane, Darcy, and Thor--left the others in an uneasy silence. Beau started to laugh. “What?” Brock said.

“You sure know how to fuck something up, son,” he said. “Welcome to marrying a woman who’s smarter than you.” 

“What do I do?” Brock said. He felt numb. 

“Why don’t you get a drink with me?” Beau offered. “We still owe you money, ma’am?” he asked the officiant. She nodded.

“Yes,” she said, then looked at Brock pityingly. “I’m sure she’ll forgive you. Sometime.”

 

“Why didn’t you just get married today and then throw a big wedding later, mate?” Jack asked as they left the office after paying for the not-wedding. Steve nodded.

“Shit,” Brock said. “I didn’t think of that.”

“Nope,” Beau said. “Jump Outta The Plane here is all balls, no brains.”

“You’re enjoying this too much,” Steve said to Beau.

“I’m used to her being mad at me for being the least emotionally intelligent man in the room,” Beau said. “It’s more fun when she’s mad at somebody else. Besides, she’ll come around. She loves you.”

“Yeah?” Brock said.

“Might call for some grovelling,” Beau said.

“Yes,” Steve and Jack said simultaneously.

 

***

 

“I really should have told him this baby was Cameron Klein’s or something! That asshole,” Darcy fumed. She was struggling with her seatbelt in Jane’s car. “Goddammit, what is wrong with this thing?”

“Let me help,” Jane said, wedging herself between the front seats to lean into the back.

“Does he really think I want a huge diva wedding? Do you know how pregnant I’ll be by the time we do the normal things?!” Darcy said. She was irate. She threw her arms in the air and Jane had to duck to avoid being hit. “Sorry,” she grumbled.

“It’s okay,” Jane said soothingly. 

“I’ll be at the miserable trimester and he’ll still be all cute in the photos,” she said out loud. “What is he even thinking?”

“He loves you--” Thor began, but Jane shook her head. Abruptly, Thor stopped. “You look very lovely in my mother’s earrings,” he corrected.

“Oh, oh,” Darcy said. “I forgot.” She burst into tears.

“Shit,” Thor muttered. Jane climbed in the backseat to hug Darcy. 

“You can drive,” Jane said, tossing Thor the keys.

“I can’t even get drunk!” Darcy wailed. “Being a babymama totally sucks.” She sniffled. “Stupid, stupid men and their dumb penises, going around getting me pregnant and then trying to marry me,” she said. “But, oh, not today, because today is not fancy enough for Mr. Fancypants!”

She got to Jane and Thor’s, Jane helped her out of her dress and jewelry, and Darcy put on pajamas and went to bed. She was exhausted.

 

***

 

“I can’t do this,” Brock said. He was on his second drink with his future father-in-law. Or the man he hoped would be his father-in-law. “I can’t just sit here, while she’s mad at me. I need to go see her,” Brock said.

“Do you want me to drive you?” Jack offered. He’d noticed the tremble in Brock’s hands.

“Yeah, yeah,” Brock said. “Let’s go,” he added, reaching for his wallet.

“I’ll take care of it,” Beau said. 

“Thank you,” Brock said. He gave Beau a serious look. “I’m going to fix this.” He set his jaw and turned to go.

 

“Look at him, using his brain,” Beau said to Steve, as the two men left. “He might make a halfway decent son-in-law one day.”

“You’ve decided you like him now?” Steve said, chuckling wryly.

“I’ve spent decades battling the heat, the rain, hurricanes, freezes, pests, blights, and competition from China, Cap, I like to root for the underdog,” Beau said. “Besides, he’s right. My daughter deserves a nice wedding. That’s the only reason for not marrying her today I’d ever accept.”

 

***

 

Darcy woke up and decided to take a bath in Jane and Thor’s very roomy tub. She’d only cried a little because she didn’t have a thermometer or a husband before she climbed into the tepid bath. She’d just put a warm cloth on her forehead when she heard a raised voice. Jane was yelling at someone. She sat up in the water and tried to hear words. Jane was saying something was  _ despicable. _ Satisfied that it was either an errant scientist, an internet troll, or a vexing lack of Pop Tarts, Darcy sloshed back down. “Oh, Nugs,” she told the Nugget, “Figgerina Ballerina, what are we gonna do now?” Darcy sighed. “I’m pissed at Brock. Your daddy.”

As soon as she said his name, Darcy heard his voice. “I’m going in there to see her, okay?” he yelled from somewhere nearby. Jane started saying  _ despicable  _ again, interspaced with  _ stupid  _ and the odd  _ selfish prick.  _ Brock had somehow argued his way into the apartment, she realized, when she heard Thor’s low, consoling murmur and Jane’s renewed swearing. Then she heard the pounding of tiny feet and Jane’s sharp knock. 

“Shit,” Darcy said out loud.

“Darcy?” Jane said.

“Baby, can I talk to you?” Brock said.

“Will you back off, you’re practically standing on my socks, asshole,” Jane said.

“Jane,” Thor said, more calmly.

“You can let him in,” Darcy called. “I don’t want you actually fighting in front of my baby. Or my uterus, whatever.”

“Okay,” Jane said sweetly. Then her voice turned icy. “You can go in now, idiot.”

 

The door opened slowly. “Sweetheart?” Brock said, peering around the door. His hair was wild, Darcy realized. It looked like he’d been pulling it out by the roots. Also, his tie was gone and he looked, well, a wreck.

“Where have you been?” she said.

“Uh, your dad took me for a drink?” he said, shutting the door and leaning back on it. “I’m sorry. I messed up today. I didn’t think--we could have gotten married today and then done a big family wedding later,” he said. 

“Yeah,” Darcy said, eyes welling. “That would have been nice.”

“Oh, honey, honey,” he said coaxingly. He walked over to the tub, then sat on the side and offered her a fistful of toilet paper. She dabbed at her eyes.

“You asshat,” she said.

“I love you so much, I couldn’t get married in that little room, not even to piss off your old man. Just think of what you could have, huh?” he said, reaching out to touch her cheek. “Rings, flowers, somewhere pretty? You want one of those--uh, those horse things?”

“What?” Darcy said.

“The, uh, princess things that you ride in--” Brock was frowning in concentration.

“Are you suggesting we have a  _ carriage?”  _ she said.

“If you want one?” he said.

“Do you know how much money that is?” Darcy said. “And I don’t even think it’s fair to the horses.”

“Oh,” he said. “What do you want?”

“I dunno,” Darcy said sullenly. A part of her had never actually thought through what she would want in a fancy wedding and the rest of her was still a little sulky.

“C’mon,” Brock said, kicking off his shoe. He made to climb in the tub, fully dressed.

“What are you doing?” she said.

“Can’t I get in with you?” he said, looking pouty.

“Not in your nice suit,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It probably needs dry-cleaning.”

“You’re very concerned with me spending money,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt. 

“What if the Nugget wants to go to Harvard?” Darcy pointed out. 

“Okay, fair point,” he said, taking his pants off and stepping in with her. “No carriage.”

“I don’t like fireworks, either. They scare pets,” Darcy said, still holding her bit of mascara-smudged toilet paper. The edges of it started to dissolve in the bathwater when he slid in next to her. Brock leaned over to kiss her mouth. 

“Whatever you want,” he said, just before their lips met. She kissed him back for a moment, enjoying it, then had a thought, and pulled back. “What is it?” he asked.

“Stupid,” she said, “I wanted to be married  _ today.” _   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually write Darcy as pretty forgiving and understanding (it's partially aspirational, 'cause I wish I had those reactions, instead of being Miss Anxiety!), but this was one circumstance where I felt like being mad was reasonable.


	16. Figs Into Lemons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos! Y'all are the best!

“There’s nothing else you really wanted?” Brock said. They were still in the bath.

“Besides our moms? No,” Darcy told him. “I was happy with that.” He looked at her and felt immediately down. She was settling, he thought. She settled for little things. Made her wants small, so she wouldn’t be disappointed not to have things. She’d tried to do the same thing with the engagement ring. But he saw how charmed she was by the ring he’d talked her into. She was always looking at it happily and fussing over keeping it clean. She did the same thing with the bracelet he’d given her for Valentine’s Day. Hardly ever took it off. She would love a nicer wedding, once he’d convinced her that she deserved one. She didn’t seem to mind people spending money on the baby--she’d accepted Tony’s gifts and his mother’s happily--but she had a weird complex about spending on herself or letting anyone else buy her things. He suspected that it had something to do with her childhood.

 _“Zuccherina,”_ he said, “no wedding bands? No cake? You love cake.”

“Do _you_ want those things?” Darcy asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah. I want Ma there and I want to feed you cake and I want it to be somewhere nice.”

“Since when do you care about that stuff?” she asked. “I don’t understand.”

“This is important,” he said. “We’re having a baby, we ought to do something nice, not a rushed thing with a few people and less than a day of planning to trick your father.”

“Okay, explain this change of heart to me?” Darcy said skeptically. He could sense her sarcasm.

“Think of all the fun we could have really planning,” he said, pushing her hair aside to kiss her shoulder. “Taking our time? We could taste cakes, huh? Go look at flowers?”

“You want to do that?” she said. She was thinking of how expensive it all sounded. Why did he want it? Half the people she knew had big weddings to please their parents and were so stressed out by the end that they’d spent ‘the big day’ anxious about a catering mistake, a relative fight, or something embarrassing.

“Uh-huh,” he said. “I want to”---he threaded his fingers with hers--”have a big celebration, not something small. This is a big life event for me. I’m an old man,” he said. “I never thought I would get married. Let me have this?” he pleaded. He hadn’t realized he cared until he’d talked to his mother and then looked around and not seen his mother’s face. Or his sister’s. The impersonality of the room—clean, but conference generic—and the feeling of lack permeated everything. No family, no reception, no flowers? He had longed in that moment for the familiarity of his home church, with its lingering smell of incense, antique pews, and the sense of steady tradition making everything more sacred.

“So, I should have a big wedding because you’re old?” she said, splashing him a little. He grinned as the water dripped off his chin.

“Yeah,” he said. “You can have a courthouse wedding with your second husband when I’ve kicked the bucket, you’re young and beautiful enough,” he said. “But I don’t think we should settle like that.”

“I thought I did good,” Darcy grumbled. “My eighty dollar dress is beautiful.” He sighed.

“This is the ring all over again,” he told her. “Why are you so determined that you don’t deserve something better? Most people think they should have the maximum of what they can afford, hell, more than they can afford, but you--you--”

“I what?” Darcy said.

“Make yourself _small,"_  he said.

“I am small,” she said, lifting her chin. It was a cute gesture. He dipped his mouth down and kissed her lightly, then looked into her eyes.

“You know what I mean. Jane told me that you didn’t even want a party when you paid off your student loans last year--all by yourself, no help from your old man--because you thought it was bad to brag,” he said.

“I didn’t borrow that much, just fifteen thousand,” Darcy said. “I worked all through Culver and got a few scholarships and he did pay my tuition over that and student health insurance and stuff, so the loans went mostly for my apartments and books and living expenses in Puente Antiguo. Everyone else I know owes like forty or seventy grand, so it seemed wrong to rub it in.” He scoffed. “What?” Darcy said. “Oh my God, this one girl I know has a hundred and twenty thousand dollars in loans, it’s terrifying. I’d have a panic attack. She’s so _calm_ about it. She just says she’ll be making payments the rest of her life!”

“Don’t think I don’t know you also sold your car before you went to London and you and Jane lived off that money, too,” he said.

“Did you do a weird SHIELD background check on me?” she asked.

“I just paid attention at your birthday party, Jane told me all that,” he said.

“Was she that wasted?” Darcy said, “I don’t remember leaving you alone for that long.”

“She was grateful that you were willing to do all you did for her and was telling me that you wouldn’t let her spend as much on the birthday party as she wanted to,” he said. “That’s when I made our nice Valentine’s Day reservations. It’s my turn to take care of you now. We can do something to really celebrate, we don’t have to do everything on the cheap.”

“That seems paternalistic,” Darcy said. “Also, my cheap flowers were beautiful, before I hit you with them.” He snorted.

“I deserved that,” he said. “I was stupid. But we’re getting married,” he said. “Do you think I ever thought I was going to get married at my age?”

“I thought you didn’t want it,” she said flatly.

“I spent years telling myself that,” he said seriously. “That it didn’t matter if I stayed single, wasn’t a relationship guy, because my work was my life. And for years--even if you’d met me in New Mexico--it would have been so dangerous for me to give Pierce that kind of leverage over me. So, my heart’s playing catch up with my head here, okay? But this is significant for me, really significant. It feels like my life’s just getting started. All because you’re in it.” He held her close. “I love you,” he said.

“So, you want a big wedding because you love me?” she said.

“Absolutely,” he said.

“Unconditionally?” she said.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Then you won’t mind if I have one request?” Darcy said.

“Of course not. Tell me. Anything. Anything you want,” he said.

“Today was stressful--”

“I am so sorry,” he began, but she put a finger to his lips and shushed him.

“But it made me realize that I don’t want to get married until after the baby is born,” she said. “When we’ve talked this through and got everything sorted out between us, then we can have a big party.”

 

***

 

In the days following her ultimatum and Brock’s acceptance, things went back to normal. Well, relatively normal. Darcy thought Jane seemed a little disappointed that she didn’t get to hit Brock or something; Thor, by contrast, seemed a little sad when Brock and she didn’t run straight to the courthouse in the morning and get married. Instead, they went home. Brock had asked that she come back and his expression had been so terrified that she immediately said yes. They did nursery prep and talked to their mothers on the phone. First, separately, then together as a group. Liz was her usual bubbly self, although she did offer to smack Brock in their solo talk. Darcy declined. She’d already heard Angela yelling at him by phone in the other room and thought he’d had all the mom-scolding he needed for one day. “Can I smack him on the ass?” her mother teased.

“Mom!” Darcy said, laughing. “Don’t be hitting on my baby daddy, all right?”

“So you’re keeping him?” Liz asked.

“Yes,” Darcy said. “But we’re not going to stress about a wedding while I’m pregnant.”

 

Instead, she worked on reading up on baby stuff. Other than a slight escalation in his gym time, Brock didn’t seem any different to her. Except she caught him occasionally looking like he wanted to say something important as they cuddled at night. He would stop, his mouth would open, and then his mouth would shut again. “You okay?” she asked, as they snuggled on the couch together.

“Yeah,” he said. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead, resting his cheek against her ear.

“The baby is the size of a lemon now,” Darcy told him, entwining their fingers.

“My Fig’s a lemon?” he said, picking his head up slightly.

“Yup. And the baby has vocal chords. Wahhhhh!” she joked. “Are you ready?”

“Completely,” he said, giving her a smoldering look. He brushed aside her hair with his thumb.

“Hey, cut that out. We got another _48 Hours_ rerun, mister. Don’t pout those lips at me,” Darcy said. Brock grinned and pinned her down, kissing her playfully and tickling her a little. He planted kisses all over her face. “Okay, okay,” Darcy said. “I yield!”

“I’m happy,” he said seriously. “Now that I’m on training full-time, can we eat lunch together everyday?”

“Of course,” Darcy said. “That’ll be good for me and Thor because Jane is less snappy when someone else is around,” Darcy mused.

“You want some more crackers and ginger ale?” he asked.

“You’re awesome,” Darcy told him. She meant it. When he got back with her snacks, Darcy stuck her hands under his shirt and rubbed his back. She kissed the nape of his neck.

“I love you,” he told her, half-turning his head. Darcy wrapped her arms around him.

“Love you, too.”

 

***

 

They also took her father back to the airport together. “Bye, Daddy,” Darcy said, as he was hugging her. “I love you,” she said.

“You take care, sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll be back to visit you and the baby soon,” he said. “And you, son,” he said to Brock.

“Or we could visit you?” Brock offered.

“That would be nice,” her father said. He patted Brock’s shoulder with a kind of absent-minded affection, like Brock was an elderly dog who peed on the rug, but had earned the right through years of good behavior. “Love you all,” he said. He gave her a quick smile, picked up his bags, and said, “wish me luck with the soybeans.” Darcy watched her father disappear into the crowds at the airport, wondering what she was missing.

“You ready, _zuccherina?”_ Brock said quietly. He reached for her and she took his hand.

“Yeah, goodbyes are weird,” she said. They walked out. It dawned on her. “You know what?” she said, as they got to the car.

“What?” he asked.

“My father likes you now,” she said. “He’ll never admit it, but he does.”

“Really?” he said.

“He’s stopped asking me to come home,” she said. “Usually, he asks me to come home.”

“That’s good, right?” Brock said.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, buckling her seatbelt. She leaned against the glass of the passenger side window, looking up. There were planes flying overhead.

 

Darcy glanced up at one as they drove away. Her father was going back to the farm and he was going to negotiate a buyout of her share of the farm lands. He’d given her all her updated trust paperwork. She had money now. It was weird and uncomfortable. She hadn’t told anyone the details. Not even Jane. Not Brock either. The last thing Darcy would describe herself as would be a wealthy thirty-one year old. But she was. It was incredibly strange.

 

***

 

“So?” Jane said in the lab that week. “How are you?” Her voice was careful. Darcy had realized that Jane watched her and Brock at lunch, hyper-alert for disagreements.

“I’m good,” Darcy said. “Things are surprisingly good.”

“Are you sure?” Jane said.

“Uh-huh,” she said.

“I thought you wanted to get married?” Jane said.

“I think we will,” Darcy said. “Eventually. But shouldn’t little Carina or Angelo be the focus of our attention for now?”

“Sure,” Jane said. “You’re okay with that?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. She didn’t mention that she’d been momentarily halted by a quote in her emails earlier that week. She was in a mood to see signs and signals in random things, but this seemed particularly apt:

 

_“Sometimes I look back and think my whole adult life has been underlined with a feeling of waiting – waiting for something to happen, waiting for circumstances to change, waiting for the right man or the right job or the right shoes-and-clothes-and-haircut to swoop down from above and change me, to infuse me from the outside in with a feeling of well-being and validation and peace of mind.”_

_– Caroline Knapp, in The Merry Recluse_

 

That afternoon, when Jane had crashed and was snoozing on a lab table, Darcy picked up her phone and called her father. He answered on the third ring. “Hey, honey,” he said. “Everything okay?”

“Yes,” Darcy said. “I need a favor, though, Daddy.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote courtesy of Gretchen Rubin's happiness-themed newsletter this week. Seemed right.


	17. I'm Sorry About the Crunch Berries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos!

“You want me to put the money back, Butterbean?” her father said. His voice sounded shocked. Darcy leaned her ear into the phone.

“Not back, just in the Nugget’s name. For the future. It’s not for me, Daddy, all that money. It doesn’t feel right,” she said.

“Are you telling me you don’t want money?” he said.

“Leave it for your grandchild,” Darcy said. “Everything we do, I want it in the baby’s name.”

“What if you need it, honey?” Beau said.

“For what?” Darcy said.

“An illness, a nice house in DC, something like that? Washington real estate’s expensive,” he told her.

“Brock owns his place,” Darcy said.

“Still, people get hurt everyday,” he said.

“You are such a lawyer,” she told him.

“I wish I wasn’t. Jones over in Pink Hill had a worker get hurt the other week. Equipment fell on him and fractured his leg in three places, honey,” Beau said. “You never know. And the healthcare system--”

“Is shitty, I know. But this money, it bothers me,” she told him. “It’s too much. And I’m all right, I am. I’ve only got my car loan, otherwise I’m clear. Brock’s not even asking me to split rent,” Darcy said.

“You’ll have baby expenses soon,” her father said. “What if I do this--I’ll put eighty percent in trust for your child and twenty percent for you now. You can spend it all on diapers and formula and it’ll feel just the same?” he bargained. Beau did some calculations and offered up a number.

“That sounds better,” Darcy said. “I think I can live with that amount in my name.”

“You don’t want more for a big wedding or a nice honeymoon?” her father said.

“God no, that seems crazy to me,” Darcy said honestly. “I never thought I’d have an expensive wedding, Daddy. It’s not like you and Mom did. I’m not a Kardashian or something.” Her father started to laugh. “What? Do you not know the Kardashians?” she asked.

“I do. I read a profile of that Kris Jenner in a magazine on the plane. Woman has acumen,” her father said. “Talked all about her daughter’s makeup company selling millions within hours. I’ve been meaning to see what the fuss is about that TV show.”

“Are you going to watch it?” Darcy said, giggling. She didn’t know how to explain the whole sex tape thing, but the idea of her father watching reality tv was hilarious.

 

***

 

They were eating dinner when Brock brought up the nursery. They had most of their furniture, but nothing cute or decorative yet. “What kind of nursery should we do?” Brock asked her. “Should we wait until we know the sex? You got a theme in mind?” he asked. “I was looking at Pinterest--”

“You have Pinterest?” Darcy said.

“Now I do,” he said. “For baby things, _zuccherina."_  Darcy grinned in delight.

“What about puppies? That’s unisex and cute,” Darcy said.

“Or elephants?” Brock said. “People do cute things with circuses.”

“Hmmm,” Darcy said. “I approve of performing poodles and ferris wheels, but is the rest animal cruelty? And no clowns. Not my baby.” She shuddered a little.

“Okay,” Brock said. “We’ll make a list of approved things. All puppies. Cats?”

“Yes and yes.”

“Elephants?”

“In an appropriate ecological setting.”

“Tigers?”

“Same.”

“Birds?”

“Ooooh. Iffy. On one hand, tropical birds are beautiful, but Hitchcock?” Darcy said.

“Fish?”

“What about the goldfish from _Fantasia?_ Could we do that?” she asked.

“Just goldfish?” he said.

“You’re right,” Darcy said. “What if the Nugget doesn’t like the water?”

“My kid probably shouldn’t associate with anything octopus themed, either,” Brock said, looking dubious. Something in his expression was hilariously chagrined. Darcy started to giggle. She laughed so long and so hard, she actually started to cry and leaned against his shoulder. He liked their chairs close, so it was easy to lean over.

“Oh my God,” she said, raising her head and wiping at her eyes. “I forgot that dipstick logo.”

“It’s not that funny. I don’t want people thinking I’m one of those racist freakshows from Charlottesville or bullying my babies,” Brock said. Darcy raised an eyebrow.

“There you go again, assuming I’m gonna want to get pregnant again after I push one baby out my uterus,” Darcy said.

“Maybe I’m counting you as one of my people, baby mama,” he said. “That gives me two. You ever thought of that?” He squeezed her knee.

“Marginally more acceptable,” Darcy said. “You know what I like? Butter yellow. You think that’d keep the baby awake at night? It would be cheerful during the day.”

“Butter yellow,” he said. “How do we figure out what color keeps up a baby?”

“Google?” Darcy offered.

“Has Jane covered this yet?” Brock asked. Jane was still gathering baby info with all the zeal she’d normally put into publishable articles. "That seems like a Jane fact," he said.

“I’ll ask,” Darcy said, tapping out a text on her phone. She smiled when she realized Brock has used that moment to move some more sweet potatoes to her plate. “Thank you,” she said, leaning over to kiss him. He leaned over dangerously in his chair to deepen the kiss when she pulled back a little. “Oooh, someone’s feeling affectionate,” she teased.

“Uh-huh,” he said, grinning slowly.

 

***

 

“This show is awful,” her father said one night. “Do these rich women just drink chardonnay and scream at each other?” he asked Darcy. They were watching television together over the phone. She did this with Liz, but it was her father’s first foray into the _Real Housewives_ franchise.

“Pretty much,” she said, wondering if he knew about _The Bachelor._ “This is why I stick to the murder shows, less screaming.”

“Huh. Who would have thought?” her father said. “Where’s Brock anyway?”

“Doing some paperwork in bed, he does a lot more reports now,” she told her father.

“Case work,” her father said. “Every man’s misery. How’s your nursery planning going?”

“Really good, I had to leave yesterday for Brock to paint some swatches. We’re trying paint colors, but he didn’t want me breathing in the fumes. Let me send you some photos.”

 

After she hung up with Beau, she went to check on Brock. She heard him snoring lightly as soon as she stepped into the bedroom. His head was resting on several pillows, hair mussed. He looked younger asleep somehow. He was ridiculously pretty, she thought, grinning to herself as she touched Brock’s hair. He’d fallen asleep with his work tablet, she realized. She moved it out of his grip, accidentally waking the screen.

What she saw there surprised her. She was so startled, Darcy gasped and almost dropped the device. She stared for several moments, until Brock snored loudly and Darcy remembered he might catch her. She stuck the tablet face down on the nightstand, grabbed her own phone, and snuck into the bathroom. “Hello?” Jane said, picking up on the third ring. “Darcy?”

“Hey, it’s me,” Darcy said. “I’m freaking out.”

“Is something wrong with the baby?” Jane said, sounding panicked.

“No, no,” Darcy said. “I just saw Brock’s tablet--oh my God---”

“What?” Jane yelled. “If he’s cheating---”

“Noooooooooo,” Darcy said. She whispered into the phone. “He has a _secret weddings board on Pinterest.”_

“What?” Jane said.

“A secret wedding board!” she repeated.

“I can’t believe you called me for this,” Jane grumbled. “I thought this was a real emergency. I almost peed my pants. Thor dumped out his bowl of Crunch Berries because he thought we might need to take you to the hospital.”

“Excuse me, a secret weddings board is a major event!” Darcy insisted. “Majorly weird, anyway.”

“Really?” Jane said. “Really?” Darcy could almost taste the sarcasm.

“I thought we’d postponed the wedding stuff,” Darcy said. “And I can’t believe he likes twinkle lights that much. Tell Thor I’m sorry about his cereal.”

 

When she crawled back into bed, Brock opened his eyes. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, just gotta pee a lot,” she said.

“Baby bladder,” he murmured. “You’re not queasy, are you?”

“Not all that much,” she said, as he raised an arm for her to scooch closer to him.

“C’mere,” he said. “I need some snuggles. Unless you feel like fooling around?” He raised an eyebrow, giving her a slow smirk. She melted a little.

“Yeah,” she said, grinning. “I could be persuaded.”

 

***

 

“Do you think we could hack it?” Darcy asked Jane the next morning. At Jane’s blank expression, she continued. “Sorry. Middle of thought vocalization. Brock’s secret wedding board. Could we hack it? I want to see what he’s picked out. I barely got to look at it. I want to really look at it.”

“Or you could ask him?” Jane suggested.

“Jane, be reasonable here. I can’t just ask him what he wants in a wedding, I’ve vetoed weddings until, like, next year sometime,” Darcy said. “It is a can of worms. Worms. I open it, I got worms. Like a puppy without heartworm meds, they’ll be crawling around.”

“That’s some wedding favor,” Jane said, snickering slightly and then pulling a face at the mental image. There was a tap on the glass. Steve stuck his head into the lab.

“Somebody say wedding favor? Because I was thinking the other day….” he began.

“Oh, Steve, not you, too,” Darcy said.

“Weddings are nice,” Steve said, shrugging.

“God,” Darcy said, “whatever happened to toxic-freaking-masculinity around here? Why aren’t you all running away screaming? When did men start being all emotionally vulnerable and considerate?”

“Sorry,” Steve said, looking slightly bemused.

“It’s 2019?” Jane offered. Darcy huffed out a laugh, then grinned.

“Okay, Steve, tell me your idea,” Darcy said.

“Well,” Steve began, beaming, “I saw this thing on the TV that people did with macarons…..”

 

Over Jane’s objections, she broke into Brock's Pinterest that afternoon. It turned out to be easier than she thought. “He uses the same password for all his goofy stuff,” she told Jane.

“I can’t believe he trusts you enough to give you his password, but you won’t just talk to him,” Jane said.

“Ummm, Jane, what if it’s tacky? Hello, I need to practice my ‘honey I’m not a big fan of this camouflage wedding idea’ face so it’s not too hurtful,” Darcy said, clicking and scrolling. “Oh God.”

“Pink camo?” Jane said, leaning over to peer at Darcy’s laptop.

“No, it’s all really cute, but he pinned a maternity wedding dress,” Darcy said.

“That’s a good dress,” Jane said.

“It is,” Darcy admitted. “I actually like it.”

“Uh-huh,” Jane said.

“And these couples who got married really nice places, like Paris. And Italy,” Darcy said. “And the Italy couple had lemons as a floral thingy.”

“Thingy?”

“Decorative element?” Darcy said. “Lemons with the flowers.”

“Huh. Show me the Paris wedding?” Jane said.

“Vintage themed,” Darcy said. “He’s saved all this planning stuff: checklists, etiquette, registering. Jane, he’s researching!”

“Awwww,” Jane said. “Maybe he’s planning so he can be helpful when you’re ready? And when are you registering for the baby shower?”

“I dunno,” Darcy said, shrugging. “I guess we could now? I haven’t thought about it.” She frowned.

“What?” Jane said.

“I’ve never done this sort of thing,” Darcy said. “Some of my friends registered for graduation gifts when they left for college and then again when they were done, but I never did that. The whole announcements thing.”

“I remember,” Jane said, rolling her eyes.

“It just seems like you’re grubbing for gifts! It’s weird,” Darcy said.

“You didn’t mind when Tony sent you things?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t ask for them. He did it genuinely,” Darcy said. “Because he really wanted to and could afford it, not out of some weird announcement of life event-and-bribery scheme I’ve cooked up.” Jane shook her head. “What? You cannot tell me that you haven’t ever struggled to afford someone’s bizarrely fancy wedding or baby gift when you were broke and then you worry they resent you because nothing they registered for was under two-hundred bucks and just ugh….” Darcy said.

“Yeah,” Jane said. “I’m pretty sure Susan from grad school didn’t even _like_ me. She knew I’d RSVP no to her wedding, but it put me on the hook for that freaking gift,” she grumbled.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Darcy said. “I’m not that person. I want people to buy me things because they can afford it and they want to, you know?”

 

 

***

Brock had been running training exercises when his mother called. He called her back before he went to pick up Darcy. “What’s going on?” Angela said. “You really aren’t getting married?”

“Ma,” he said, sighing, “I told you. She wants to wait until after the baby is born. So we’re waiting.”

“I thought she was just pissed at you and she’d change her mind in a few days,” Angela said. She sounded grim. “She was so happy with her little wedding and then you had to go and have a decent feeling for once in your life!” she said, half-frustrated, half-laughing.

“I have feelings. Why does everybody think I don’t have feelings about my own damn wedding?” he grumbled, ignoring a look from a passing agent. “I want to get married. I’m ready--”

“Took you long enough,” Angela said.

“I had to wait for the right woman,” he said.

“You tell her that, not me,” Angela said. “I know already. But does she know?” He sighed.

“Hey, look, I’m trying here. I’m waiting. What do you think of those nursery colors? She likes yellow,” he said.

“Not pink or blue?” Angela said.

“Yellow’s cheerful,” he said, shifting the phone a little to nod at another STRIKE commander. “What do you think of beach weddings, Ma?” he asked in a lower voice.

“Beach weddings?” his mother said. “Not Jersey!”

“Dear God, no, I was thinking somewhere warmer. Her family’s pretty near a beach, though,” he said.

"North Carolina?" Angela said.

“Yeah. That’s not too far away. Doesn't look too bad online.”

 

***

 

“So,” Darcy said, as she climbed into the SUV with Brock that afternoon and kissed him.

“So?” he said, leaning in to kiss her again.

“I think we need to talk. Or I need to confess something,” Darcy said.

“Yeah?” he said, frowning. He paused. Kept the car in park. Looked at her with obvious concern

“I saw your Pinterest,” she said. “I snooped. Even the secret board.”

“Oh,” he said. “Shit. Shit. Don’t be mad about the wedding stuff, I was just reading up--”

“I’m not mad,” Darcy said. “I think we need to discuss things.” She tapped the console with her fingers nervously, tracing infinity signs. Loop. Loop.

“What things?” he said.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this fic has turned into a serious meditation on money in ways I did not plan...


	18. Where Are We Now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos!

“What do you need to tell me?” It was very quiet in the parking garage. Brock looked at her. She looked at him for a second before she started talking.

“I, uh, hate money?” Darcy said, rolling her head back. “Fancy weddings, expensive registries, all that stuff. I hate the way that it locks you into an ever-more elaborate set of social expectations and behaviors and stresses everyone out.”

“Yeah?” His fingers tapped the steering wheel gently.

“I don’t want my relatives and people I went to school with to feel obligated to spend money on expensive baby clothes or silver picture frames or china settings, or have some big wedding where I cry because I’m freaked out about a catering mistake--” Darcy said, letting her voice fade off. “Have you ever had that feeling?”

“I hadn’t thought about it like that, no,” he said quietly.

“I have. My dad gave me money. Lots of it. I gave it back, had him turn it into a trust for the baby,” Darcy said. “I could have used that money to plan the fanciest wedding, but then I obligate everyone I know to play along, too. If we got married somewhere like Paris, everyone without access to a BiFrost or a Stark jet is on the hook for plane tickets.”

“Okay,” Brock said. “We won’t do that.” He cranked the car, easing his foot off the brake, before he realized Darcy was looking at him with her mouth open.

“That’s it?” she said. “You’re just letting me have things exactly how I want them?”

“Nope,” he said, after a pause. His expression had shifted.

“What?” Darcy said.

“I’m not letting you have things exactly the way you want them, no.” He was grinning. “Because I don’t want a hundred buck wedding with three guests and deli roses. When we do get married, the mothers will be there and it will not be in a municipal office,” he said playfully.

“Are you making fun of the pregnant?” Darcy said, astonished.

“Maybe,” he said. Then he leaned over and kissed her gently. “I love you,” he said. “I want our life together to start with a really good party. But I promise that it won’t put any hardships on anybody else.”

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay?” he said. “Also, I’m planning this wedding. That’s my condition.”

“No way,” she said. “Seriously? What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m ready, I was just telling Ma on the phone. I want to be married to you. Also, I think it would be nice to be able to tell the baby it was in the wedding.” The lightness of his tone was undercut by the expression in his eyes. Darcy nodded, then grinned.

“All right, I just don’t want to be twelve thousand months pregnant and all swollen like the _Ghostbusters_ marshmallow man, okay?” Darcy said.

“Well, then, I better get started,” he said. He looked at her. “I wasn’t ready until I met you, you know that, right?” he said. She smiled.

But Darcy was still thinking about that when they got back home. She looked at Brock in the elevator. “You mean back when we were having sex in supply closets?” she said.

“What?”

“You were in love with me when we were fooling around at work?” she asked.

“Definitely,” he said.

“Sure,” she said skeptically.

“I was very into you,” he insisted. “Always.” He reached over and wrapped his arms around her. “Nobody else for me but you.”

 

  
***

 

The next few weeks passed quickly. Darcy was aware that Brock was planning a wedding, but he hid all the bills and costs from her. Still, odd things seemed to be happening behind her back. Jane kept _smiling_ at her at strange intervals and asking her questions about what honeymoon she’d want one day, the Asgardian shower had to be delayed for unclear reasons, and her mother was entirely too cheerful whenever they talked. Darcy got the oddest feeling that people stopped talking whenever she entered a room. It was the funniest thing. Was everyone but her in on this? And what was this, anyway? He’d barely let her know anything.

“I don’t need to be fitted for a dress?” she asked Brock one afternoon. They were curled up on the couch. She was reading about the baby being the size of an apple. The shower on Asgard was only a few days away

“Not yet,” he said. He’d gotten her input on a few things, like flowers, without telling her how much he was spending. It was probably a lot though. She’d heard him on the phone with his mother. Also, she was pretty sure her mother was involved, based on the amount of Vaguebooking Liz did about being excited about ‘something for the wedding’ every other day. Darcy’s consolation was that her Dad was totally in the dark, so they just talked about reality television. She’d gotten him into _The Great British Bake Off_ now; she considered it one of her major accomplishments. She was thinking about the wedding when she spoke again.

“Will there be twinkle lights? I kinda want those,” she admitted to Brock.

“I’ll make a note,” he said.

“And that one thing from your wedding board, I liked that,” she said. She’d snuck on a few times, just to see.

“Which thing, babe?” he said.

“The, uh, centerpiece thing? With the floating flowers and tea lights?” she said. “And I want input on the cake, okay? That’s important.”

“How do you feel about chocolate raspberry?” he asked.

“Oh God, chocolate raspberry,” she sighed. “That’s an option? I love that.” Her mouth watered.

“Hungry?” he said.

“Yeah, a little,” she said. She licked her lips. “Chocolate raspberry as a filling or an icing?”

“Whatever you want, but I was thinking filling,” he said. “We could go to a bakery sometime before the shower?”

“Oooh,” she said. She looked at him. “Is it wrong that I really want to kiss you now?” She was in one of those pregnancy hormone moods that made her feel vaguely warm and turned on all the time. She grinned at him. “I don’t really want food, though. Not right this second.”

“No?” he said. “You wanna fool around a little?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Don’t get up.” She wiggled on top of him and took her shirt off. Brock grinned.

“Have I told you how amazing you look, _zuccherina?”_ he said, petting her hips. She’d gained a little weight and was starting to show a tiny bit. Maybe. She thought it might also be that she ate whatever the hell she wanted to keep from yorking all the time.

“I’m pregnancy swole,” she joked.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re beautiful.” He was insistent. That made her smile. She pried off her bra, sighing in relief.

“These things are torture. You are such a liar, but I’ll accept it, especially since this damn bra has me all red and squeezy,” she said, studying the red marks left on her skin by the straps. He frowned.

“You should stop wearing those,” he said. “That’s fucking awful.” Darcy nodded, smiling at him.

“You,” she said. “Are probably as close to perfect as a man can be.” She slid his shirt off and dotted kisses down his belly.

“Really?” he said.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said, unbuckling his pants. “Lift your hips a little for me, so I can get these down?” Darcy asked running her fingers over the dark line of curly hair on his lower abdomen. He shifted, then groaned in anticipation when she’d slid his clothes down and he realized what she was doing. Darcy pressed gently on his shaft and guided it between her lips.  

“Hey,” he said.

“Mmm?” she said, shifting her gaze to his face.

“I know I messed up before,” he said, “with the other wedding, but it won’t happen again--why are you rolling your eyes? Don’t--oh God,” he groaned. “Forget I said anything, just keep doing that.” He bucked gently as she moved, swirling her tongue in a way she knew he liked. He strained under her touch as she used her hand to massage him. “Oh, God,” he repeated. “And you think I didn’t want to be with you? Jesus Christ. I love you so much.”

 

He was sprawled out on the couch afterwards feeling dopey and relaxed when she went to brush her teeth. “We’re naming the baby Carina if it’s a girl and Gianni if it’s a boy, I just decided,” she said.

“Gianni?” he said, half sitting up. “Were we talking about that?”

“You won’t let me have Dominick,” she pointed out. “How does that sound?” she called out.

“Wonderful,” he said. Brock rubbed his face slightly. She’d used sex against him. She’d weaponized a blow job, he realized, to tell him her final name choices. He’d look like an ass if he argued. “I hope we have a girl,” he said under his breath. They wouldn’t know for another five weeks. “God, I hope we have a girl. Maybe we could go for Dominick, call him Nick,” he mused out loud. Then he checked his phone, grinning. There was a text from Jane. He’d roped Jane into the planning. Jane got him Frigga and Loki and more fucking twinkle lights than he’d thought possible, according to Jane’s email. Asgardian magic was free, after all. Everything was on schedule.

“What are you smiling about?” Darcy said, coming out of the bedroom.

“You just tried to sex loophole me,” he said, crossing his arms.

“So?”

“I want you to remember that later,” he said.

“Later when?” she said.

“Oh, I’m not telling, it would ruin the surprise,” he said. “But I am going to book us a cake testing for tomorrow.”

“That soon?” she said.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, smirking.

“Why?”

“That,” Brock said, “is a secret.” She threw a pillow at him. “What kinds of cake did you want to try, sweetheart? Lemon? Mocha?”

“That all sounds good,” she said, plopping down on top of him again. “When I’m hugely pregnant, remind me there was a time when I all I wanted to do was eat cake and have sex.”

He laughed.

 

Darcy was confused as to why Brock looked so pleased with himself all evening long. He was clearly spending a lot of money on the wedding, she thought, with a pang of dread. She and her dad discussed it, when she called him that night to ask if Brock had said anything---or worse, mentioned money. Brock was doing paperwork in the kitchen, so she snuck a call to North Carolina in the bedroom. “Butterbean,” her father said. “He and I have not talked about anything but what suit I should wear to this Asgardian shower and when I’m being picked up by this BiFrost.” He sighed a little. “The man hasn’t asked me for a dime. Hasn’t even mentioned the word wedding yet.”

“Oh,” Darcy said.

“To tell you the truth, I’m a little put out. The father’s s’posed to pay for this.”

“You’re mad because you can’t pay?” Darcy squealed.

“I’m not used to being superfluous, honey.”

“You’re not going to be superfluous, you and Mom are going to walk me, whenever and wherever it is,” Darcy told him. She’d told Brock that much. She didn’t care if the Catholic Church had a position on that. He’d laughed as if it was especially funny.

“Uh-huh,” her father said. He sounded amused. “Your mama says this is my karma for pushing you towards Gus all these years, I finally get the one son in law in the world I can’t lord it over.”

“When did you talk to mom?”

“The other day, when I was picking you out a shower gift,” he said. “Have you seen this episode of GBBO with the Baked Alaska?” He meant the episode where one contestant had taken another’s ice cream out of the fridge and left it on the counter.

“That guy’s name was Iain,” Darcy said. “Poor fella.”

“That woman sabotaged him, I know it. They tried to say she left because of illness, but I know the truth,” Beau said.

“You and me both, Daddy,” she said. They were still chatting when Brock came into the bedroom, toyed with her hair, and kissed her cheek.

“Tell your dad I said hi,” Brock said.

“Brock says hi,” Darcy said, watching as he moved into the bathroom to take a shower. She leaned sideways to get a better look at him as he took his clothes off. Catching her, he winked.

“Get in here,” he mouthed.

“Also, we’re gonna name the baby Carina if it’s a girl or Gianni for a boy, I decided,” she told Beau.

“I can pronounce those,” he said. “You had a great uncle Johnny, too.”

“Honey,” Darcy said. “I had a great uncle Johnny!”

“Wonderful,” a very naked Brock told her. “Get off the phone,” he mouthed teasingly.

“I gotta go, Daddy, but I love you,” she said.

“Love you, too, Butterbean,” he said.

 

 ***

The bakery was wonderful, too, Darcy thought, the next afternoon. They’d been put at a table to try various things. “How did you do this so quickly?” she said. There were several slices of cake in front of her.

“I actually called a while ago,” he said. “Try the red velvet.” He pushed a slice towards her. As she ate, he grinned and rubbed her thigh. Then he leaned over and kissed her neck. Darcy laughed.

“This is so good. You’re being very PG 13-rated for a cake store,” she said. “Has shower sex gone to your head?”

“Did you actually say that?” he said, beaming. “In front of our child?” His voice was playful.

“Whoops,” Darcy said. “Double entendre, Nugget!”

“I do have a surprise, though,” he said, turning serious.


	19. An Asgardian Baby Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Fanfic Author Appreciation Day!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos on this one!

“What is the surprise?” Darcy said, as they left the bakery. “Please tell me that it’s a cake where each tier has its own flavor, because that is wedding planning that I like.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, “but I can arrange that, too.”

“But what’s the surprise?” she asked.

“I guess you’re going to find out,” Brock said. “In the meantime, you need some rest. Shower’s in two days,  _ zuccherina.” _

“You’re not planning some elaborate push present, are you? Because I think those are a little weird. The name, really,” Darcy said. “Who wants to be reminded of labor pains?” He threw back his head and laughed.  They spent the next day prepping and packing for the Asgard trip. Heimdall was moving everyone, so Darcy only had to call the Moms and give them directions. Thor was actually meeting each of them to act as a fancy escort, which Darcy thought was very sweet of him. But he was good with mothers. 

“What are you thinking about?” Brock asked her, as she stood over her suit case, worrying her lip.

“Do I need a jacket on Asgard?” Darcy said. “I feel like I need a jacket.”

“Pack a jacket, babymama,” he said, grinning. He was practically beaming. It made Darcy a little suspicious. She packed a jacket and a second scarf. The shower that Frigga wanted to throw was a multi-day affair. Everyone had gotten time off work. She hoped there weren’t any Avengers-related emergencies that would pull people away.

When she went to the bathroom to pee, she whispered to the baby, “I don’t know what your daddy is planning as my shower surprise, but I bet it’s expensive, Nugget.” She was envisioning a lot of pricey shower presents. Would he give her some crazy jewelry when the Nugget was born? Wasn’t that what the Kardashians did? She’d have to ask Beau; he was keeping up with them now. He’d probably know about the push presents.

 

Brock looked up as she came out of the bathroom. “Come cuddle me, huh?” He patted the bed. He was already in bed?

“It’s early,” Darcy said. “Isn’t it?” She looked at the clock. It was only nine-forty-three.

“Nah, it’s not that early, besides I want to talk about cake some more.”

“For somebody who barely eats sugar, you love talking about cake,” she said, feeling herself grin. It was really, really cute.  He was really cute. He had a gorgeous five o’clock shadow happening this week. Also, his arm muscles were especially flattered by tank tops So she told him: “You’re cute.”

“I’m cute?” he said, crooking an eyebrow.

“Real cute,” she said. “That doesn’t mean I don’t know that you’re sneaking around spending money behind my back.” He laughed.

“Much less than you’d think,” he said. Darcy narrowed her eyes. “What?” he said.

“I don’t want a big ring like a Kardashian as a push present,” she warned. She plopped gently onto the bed. “Or anything really elaborate.”

“No?” he said. “Damn, I’ll have to see if the zoo will take it back--”

“Brock!” she said, laughing. He reached over and threaded a hand through hers.

“For somebody who allegedly doesn’t want a fancy present, you mention them a lot,” he said, smirking. Darcy started to giggle wildly. He’d so busted her. 

“Okay, fine, maybe I’m curious about what you’re doing and I do want it to be nice,” she admitted. 

“Okay,” he said, calmly. “Talk it out for me?”

“Nuh-uh,” she said, crawling onto his hips. “We can talk about that later.” He grinned and settled his palms on her hips. 

“Later,” he said, looking pleased. “Later when?”

“After I’m done mussing you up a little,” she told him happily. “Take off that shirt I know you put on because it distracts me.”

“This one?” he said. “This shirt? I better write that down,  _ zuccherina. _ Does it have to be a black one or--”  He lifted his head and grinned at her as she wiggled down the bed. 

“Shush, I’m taking your pants off,” Darcy said.

“What are you going to demand afterwards?” he teased. “The name of our second kid?”

“You never know,” Darcy said, smirking. “Maybe I’ll decide I want to name the second one Thorella,” she told him.

“Thorella,” he said, cringing. “I changed my mind about Dominick.” Darcy started to laugh and then slipped his sweatpants down his thighs. He looked at her with a cryptic expression.

“Thoughts?” she asked. He grinned lazily.

“I’m happy.”

“Me, too.”

  
  


***

When they landed in Heimdall’s observatory for the baby shower, Darcy realized they were the last people to arrive. The golden room was bustling with shower attendees: there were Avengers, her father was talking to Sif--who was showing him one of her blades---and the moms were standing together. Frigga was the first person to realize they’d arrived. She swept over elegantly. “Welcome to Asgard, Commander Rumlow,” she said. The long sleeves of her dress swished. Standing there in a sundress over leggings with her jacket--it fit gently over her swelling belly--Darcy felt underdressed. But Frigga gave her a genuine smile. “You look beautiful,” she said. Darcy wondered if the Queen could read minds.

“This is Queen Frigga,” Darcy said.

“Oh, he and I have spoken,” Frigga said.

“What? When?” Darcy said. Frigga smiled mysteriously.

“There was planning. May I?” she asked Darcy. She gestured to Darcy’s stomach.

“Sure,” Darcy said, looking at Brock. “Planning?” she whispered. He grinned.

“Somebody’s gotta plan a shower,” he said. Frigga rubbed Darcy’s belly gently, then her eyes lit up. She smiled at both of them.

“A strong, healthy baby,” she said.

“Good,” Darcy said, feeling a wave of relief she hadn’t anticipated. 

“Shall we assemble the party and move to the palace?” she asked Brock.

“Sure,” he said. “You’re hungry, right?” he said to Darcy. 

“Always,” she said. “If I’m not puking, I’m hungry,” she told Frigga. The other woman nodded. 

“I had terrible morning sickness with Thor,” she said. 

“Really?” Darcy said, surprised.

“We have a tonic, I will see if I can get you some,” the queen said airily. “I will go thank Heimdall…” Frigga stepped elegantly away.

“I can’t imagine her yorking her guts out in a SHIELD bathroom,” Darcy mused. Brock chuckled, then tucked his arm around her.

“Come meet my sister,” Brock said, towing her over proudly. “Fallon!” he called out. Both women looked over.

“Hi,” Darcy called out, smiling at the dark-haired woman next to Angela. She had the same high cheekbones as Brock and a bright expression. They’d gone a few steps when Darcy was embraced in a hug. 

“Isn’t she gorgeous?” Angela said, somewhere behind Brock’s sister. Fallon let go of Darcy, smiled and spoke.

“You’re so cute!” she said. Then she looked at Brock. “Don’t fuck this up, moron,” she said, laughing.

“Fal,” he grumbled.

“They could be married already,” Angela was saying over Brock’s protests, as Darcy hugged Liz. 

“He’s just as hot in person,” her mother whispered. Darcy started to laugh. “I’m going to tell your father that,” Liz added. 

“Oh God, stop, I’m going to cry laughing,” Darcy said. She felt a wild thread of happiness: Frigga had reassured her that the Nugget was healthy, all her people were here, and her mom was definitely going to pinch Brock’s ass sometime during this trip. Darcy could see the crafty look in Liz’s eyes when he turned to her for a hug.

  
  


The first step of a multi-day Asgardian shower was apparently being bathed and dressed in realm-appropriate finery. The second was a formal banquet that turned wildly joyous or joyously wild, depending on your view. The most shocking part was that Odin was actually friendly to them. He toasted Darcy and Brock with a wish for many children. “He seems...warm?” Darcy whispered to Jane. She tilted her chin at a smiling Odin at the other end of the room.

“I think Frigga put him on drugs,” Jane cracked in a low voice. Odin hadn’t ever been this kind and welcoming when they’d visited with Thor. But Frigga was positively glowing. And even Loki--normally droll, dry, and dangerous to know--was there on his best behavior. He winked at Darcy across the table somewhere around the third course.

“Why’s he winking?” Brock muttered. Loki made him a smidge nervous. He remembered New York.

“I thought he was winking at Fallon?” Darcy said innocently. Brock looked more alarmed.

“Ma, don’t--” Brock began, then sighed. “My mother and your mother are winking back,” he told Darcy. Everyone but Darcy and Brock were slightly to majorly tipsy. They’d entered the standing on tables and shouting about battles part of the evening.

“They’ve been in the booze,” Jane said. 

“It could stun an elephant,” Darcy said, lamentably sober. “I miss that.”

“Yeah,” Brock said, looking around. “I got that impression from some of the other guests.”

“Did my mom pinch you?” Darcy said, laughing.

“No,” he said. “One of those Asgardian chicks did. Val-somebody.”   
“Valgerd?” Darcy suggested.

“That’s it,” he said.

“My mom probably encouraged that,” Darcy admitted, waggling her eyebrows.

“She definitely did,” Jane said, snorting.

“I like your mom,” Brock said.

“Well, she totally thinks you’re as cute in person as you look on Insta,” Darcy said, grinning. He barked out a laugh.

  
  


Several rounds of pinching--Darcy was afraid he would be black and blue when they got back to DC--she curtsied a goodbye to Frigga and Odin and snuck to her quarters with Brock. “Oof,” Darcy said, wiggling her toes. Her feet were swollen in their elegant sandals. 

“This is a...room,” Brock said, looking at the cream and gilt chamber.

“It’s very fancy,” Darcy admitted. 

“You’re not appalled?” he teased.

“I’m usually too wasted to care,” she said, laughing. He grinned at her. “Never had company this handsome, though,” she added, leaning over to drag him towards the bed.  

“I’m just a regular Midgardian guy,” he said dryly. Darcy ran her fingers over his arms and looked up at him.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “So, there’s one thing I’ve been meaning to ask you?”

“Yeah?” Brock said.

“This surprise you mentioned?” Darcy asked.

“Yeah?”

“It wouldn’t be a shower and a wedding, would it?”

  
  



	20. The Last Surprise of the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Have you planned our wedding here?” Darcy said. She looked at Brock. He looked at her. She read the expression on his face and realized she’d guessed it. “Brock?” she said. Brock took a ragged breath. Licked his lips.

 “I love you,” Brock said. “You mad at me?” he asked. His expression was nervous. Darcy started to laugh.

“You sneak!” she said. His expression turned lighter.

“You’re not mad?” he said. 

“When are we doing this? Where?” she asked. “Of course I’m not mad. Show me,” she told him. “Do they have the decorations up?” 

“I’ll--I’ll show you,” Brock said, taking her hand. He looked relieved.

  


They went out of their room in the palace and descended to the level of the palace gardens. “It’s, uh, out here?” Brock said, looking almost shy and tentative to Darcy. There were beautiful, live vines all around the steps descending to an allée of blooms. Chairs were already waiting, too. Magical lights glittered in the trees and flowers in the dark. A long bolt of fabric led from the steps to a raised trellis covered in blooms and lights. Darcy realized that was where they were going to stand. 

“Oh,” Darcy said, transfixed.

“I can ask Frigga to change anything--” he said hurriedly.

“I love it,” Darcy said, starting to cry. 

“Oh,” Brock said. Then he seemed to recollect himself and pulled her in close. “I’m glad, ‘cause I’ve been afraid you’d hate it.”

“No, no,” she said, shaking her head. “I love it.”

“Good.” They stood there for a minute, Darcy leaning against his shoulder. 

“We’re getting married,” Darcy said, giggling. 

“Did you think we wouldn’t?” he said quietly.

“I don’t know,” she said, raising her head to look at him. “I thought it would happen someday, yeah, but not as a surprise like this.” She grinned at him. “This is better than I could have ever imagined,” she told Brock.

“Yeah?” he said, voice delighted. She nodded and rested her head against his chest. 

“Does everyone know but me?” she wondered out loud. 

“Everyone but you and your dad,” he said.

“When am I getting married?” she asked.

“Day after tomorrow? Frigga thought I should give you a day to prepare and it would be nice to have the ceremony at dusk for all the lights,” he offered. Darcy nodded, rubbing her fingers over his thumb. She squeezed Brock’s hand.

“Can we do it tomorrow night instead?” she asked suddenly.

“I could ask,” he said. Neither of them wanted to move. The lights glittered in the trees.

  


***

They had the baby shower in the morning and the ceremony at night. Both Darcy’s parents were walking her down the aisle. “I’ve never been to a night wedding,” Beau said, as Liz’s helped the attendants with Darcy’s magically crafted gown.

“It’s perfect for you, honey, you’ve never been a morning person,” Liz said cheerfully. 

“No, I hope the Nugget isn’t either,” Darcy said, laughing. Frigga entered the room.

“They are ready for you, Darcy,” the queen said. 

“Are we ready?” Darcy asked her parents.

“Yes,” Liz and Beau said in unison.

“Jane hasn’t slapped anybody, has she?” Darcy asked casually, as they walked.

“No,” Frigga said. “And my earrings look lovely on you, dear.” 

“Thank you,” Darcy said. Liz echoed her thanks and Beau did, too; her parents had been extremely polite and happy all day. Darcy had concentrated on trying to breathe normally. The shower had been a great distraction for her jangling nerves.

“It has been wonderful,” Frigga said. “I have many ideas for Jane and Thor’s wedding that I have shared with Odin.” Her voice was only a little arch. Darcy grinned.

“If I face-plant going down the aisle, you can magically make everyone forget it happened, right?” she asked. Frigga laughed. The doors opened to the garden.

 

 

In the dark, Darcy could see delighted faces lit by the magical lamps. All the people she cared about. Everyone looked glowing. But her attention was only on Brock. At the end of the aisle, he had half-turned to speak to Thor. But he when he heard the music begin, he turned. 

She got to see his face when he saw her. That was the best gift of all.

 

-The End-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tiny sequel can be found in my tumblr prompts series: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18699337/chapters/44920936


End file.
